Song of the Savior
by QuiteACommonFairy
Summary: Willow wants what everyone wants - a happy ending. The problem is, she's more the villain of her story than a hero. With her life on the line, and a pirate captain and a heartless witch calling the shots, she's nothing more than a pawn in this one. To escape her debt and make it out alive, she has to push her boundaries and be the better villain. But can she pay the price?
1. Straight Out of a Fairytale

**Hello, all, and welcome to my new OUAT story, Song of the Savior. Originally, I wasn't sure I wanted to go anywhere with this, but it could be fun, so we'll see what happens I guess. Basically, my story is sort of a retelling/what-if scenario of OUAT, starting in season 2, episode 2 of the show. It features pretty much all the characters we already know, as well as an OC I created. I know some people aren't a fan of OCs, which is fine. But please don't come here just to hate if you are one of those people. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but we don't need any negativity here. There's enough of that in the world already, lol.**

 **Anyway, the first chapter may be a bit slow, since it's mainly from Emma's point of view and it only really adds a couple of original elements to the plot. But it should pick up as it goes... probably.**

 **Hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think so far if you have the time!**

 **Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Once Upon a Time, or the elements I take from its plot.**

Song of the Savior

Chapter 1: Straight Out of a Fairytale

The ropes binding Emma's hands burned and cut at her wrists. She gritted her teeth to hide the pain in her stubborn pride as three women on horses dragged her and Mary Margaret along a desolate seashore that seemed unending to her eyes. The woman pulling their ropes had a hard expression and thin dark hair. She wore a suit of armor, unlike the other dark-haired woman to her left who simply wore what appeared to be a thick brown jacket with white pants and boots. The frailer woman on the right had pale skin that seemed to be lacking in sun exposure, and a dress that looked like it came straight out of a fairytale.

Even as she examined them, it hadn't entirely sunken into her blonde head just yet that she had literally just fallen _into_ a fairytale realm. She saw her son poisoned by magic, she slayed a dragon, watched Regina almost get her soul sucked out by some kind of nightmare from _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ , and now she was actually in the place it all began. The Enchanted Forest. She could see it. And even now, she wasn't sure she believed it.

"This—seriously sucks," she hissed, jerking her hands against the ropes as she stumbled along in the dirt.

Mary Margaret heard her low comment and cast her a side glance and a smile in spite of the circumstances. "Yeah, well—welcome home, sweetie."

Emma huffed, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "Thanks a lot."

"Shut up back there," the woman pulling them called, yanking them forward a little too roughly and nearly causing Emma to slip off her feet. In response, she mumbled a few bitter curse words, but nothing loud enough for any of them to hear.

The walking continued for what seemed like hours to Emma, until a new piece of land appeared off in the distance. It was a small continent, almost like an island, except that it was connected to the mainland by a stretch of beach leading out to it. The three women continued on, meaning that it must have been their destination.

"What is this place?" Mary Margaret called breathlessly, her legs shaking from the strain on her body.

Emma didn't expect to receive so much respect as an answer, but the armed woman turned her head half way toward them. "Our home," she said simply, pulling them further along.

With a quick glance at her companion, who she now knew to be her biological mother, Emma murmured, "How the hell—are there still people living here? I thought—"

"Honestly—" Mary Margaret replied, "Your guess—is as good as mine."

After that, Emma didn't ask any more questions or even dare to make more comments until they reached a small encampment, filled with rundown huts and people wearing tired faces, hard at work. Emma was relieved to finally have a chance to catch her breath, even though she and Mary Margaret were not released from their binds. Their captors walked behind them as people around them dropped what they were doing to gasp and stare.

Emma frowned. "It's like they're refugees," she said quietly.

"We're survivors," the armed woman retorted as she patted down her horse. No sooner had she finished her final syllable than Mary Margaret turned around to knee the frail woman in the abdomen, giving them a chance to escape.

"Emma, run!" she cried, and they made a break for it.

Emma, on the other hand, made it only a few feet before the woman in the brown jacket grabbed her. It took her by surprise, but she could tell almost immediately that she surpassed her attacker in physical strength. She kicked the woman from underneath, knocking her right off her feet, but with her hands tied Emma's balance was off-kilter and when the attacker caught her arm, they both toppled over. In that same instant she heard a cracking noise, which distracted her briefly. She cried out Mary Margaret's name as she saw her lying unconscious a few yards away, which gave her attacker enough time to push her down on her back. The woman breathed heavily from the struggle as she held a knife to Emma's throat, but a spark of amusement danced in her green eyes.

"You're strong," she said softly, "But not quite strong enough."

"Take them to the pit!" Emma heard someone shout. "Willow, step off!" And as the green-eyed girl, who they called Willow, pulled away and she was dragged to her feet, she let her captors do as they pleased, for she didn't have the will to fight any longer.

They brought her and the passed out Mary Margaret into a dimly lit cave-like prison. It smelled like dust and dirt and something else, but it wasn't exactly pleasant.

She stumbled as they pushed her roughly inside, and tossed Mary Margaret in like a sack of potatoes, despite her feeble protests. "Hey, come on," she breathed, kneeling down to shake Mary Margaret. "Wake up. Hey, can you hear me?" She was so afraid that her own hands trembled as she pleaded with her companion to wake—as she contemplated that she was now a prisoner in a strange land with no way home that she knew. In her life she'd gone through a lot of crap, but this, she wasn't sure she could handle.

It was an unfamiliar voice from nearby that brought Emma out of her frenzy. "Do you need help?"

She glanced up in surprise, zeroing in on a shadowy figure currently occupying the cave with her. "Who are you?" she asked without thinking.

"A friend," the figure said, stepping out of the dark and revealing a disheveled, reddish haired older woman wearing rags. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips in greeting. "My name's Cora."

Emma hesitated, standing up to face the stranger in her presence. Usually any time someone introduced themselves as, "a friend" they actually meant the exact opposite. "Uh—hi," she said. Then, feeling the need to return the courtesy of an introduction, she added, "I'm Emma."

"Emma," Cora repeated softly. "What a lovely name."

Emma stiffened. Something about that sounded oddly familiar.

"What happened here?" Cora asked, not seeming to notice Emma's unease as she knelt down to touch Mary Margaret's forehead. Her voice was so soft and gentle—calm. Perhaps too calm.

"I—I think they hit her in the head or something," Emma said. "She's not waking up."

"She'll be all right. I don't think it's too serious—as she seems to be breathing normally."

"Are you sure?"

Cora turned her head and smiled, pulling herself to her feet. "Don't worry. She'll be fine."

Emma wasn't sure whether or not it was okay to simply take this woman's word for it, but she supposed there wasn't a choice in the matter. Instead, she distracted herself by looking around. There was an opening above them, which allowed some light to seep through. Of course, it didn't seem that route held much hope for escape. "What is this place?" she asked. "Where are we?"

"It's a little island our captors like to think of as their haven."

Emma glanced at Cora. "Haven? From what?"

"The world's dangerous," Cora said solemnly. "Or what's left of it, anyway."

"Well, they can't keep us down here. We didn't do anything."

Cora shrugged. "Neither did I."

Emma was finding this woman rather difficult to read, and she didn't like it. "Then why are you here?"

This time, however, Cora did seem to hesitate. "I'm here because of something my daughter did. The curse that ravaged this land years ago? She cast it."

Up until this point, Emma didn't think there was much else that could possibly surprise her. She thought wrong. "Regina. You're _Regina's mother_?" Well, if she as on high alert before, she definitely had a reason to be worried now.

"Yes," Cora admitted, "But you've nothing to fear from me. The apple fell very far from the tree, I assure you."

She said it almost as if it were a joke. An innocent joke gone terribly, terribly wrong. But despite Cora's claims, Emma didn't feel safe with this woman. In fact, although the Cora she saw here appeared to be the exact polar opposite of her out-spoken, overly dramatic daughter Regina, Emma had the suspicion that there was a gigantic storm brewing inside those glistening eyes.

Cora smiled. "You're from over there, aren't you?" she guessed. "How'd you get back?"

" _Emma_."

She nearly jumped when she heard her name, only to realize a second later that it was Mary Margaret, who, despite coming to consciousness only seconds ago, was now wide-eyed and wary.

"Oh, Snow," Cora said with a sigh. "You're awake. I'm so relieved."

Emma didn't even get a chance to be relieved. Before she could get a word out, Mary Margaret grabbed her by the arms a regarded her with fearful eyes. "As bad as you think Regina is," she whispered, "This woman is worse."

"Oh, Snow," Cora repeated, causing Mary Margaret to turn around and shield Emma with her arm. "Sweet Snow. Believe me. Whatever she told you isn't true. I just want to help you."

Okay, so maybe Cora was lying through her teeth and couldn't be trusted. But Emma wasn't exactly in the mood, nor did she feel she was in the position, to be choosy. "Let's hear her out."

" _Emma_."

Realizing that Mary Margaret was not going to budge easily, Emma took a breath and offered, "Okay. Right now we are at the bottom of a hole with no other options. And Henry is back in Storybrooke with Regina." In Emma's mind, getting back to her son was more important than anything at the moment. And if she had to take her chances with someone like Cora to make it happen, it was better than sitting down here to rot.

"Who's Henry?" Cora asked, still playing the innocent role.

"My son," Emma explained. "I—kind of share him with Regina. It's complicated."

Mary Margaret whirled around and grabbed her again, which was really starting to get on Emma's nerves. " _Don't_ talk to her!"

Before Emma had the chance to let her frustration spit out something unpleasant, someone yelled something down at them from above. A rope descended toward them. "Our leader requests an audience!" a guard called.

And so Mary Margaret and Emma were removed from the quiet, stuffy hole and brought back out into the light. A couple guards escorted them through the tiny village, while Emma trudged along in silence, still irritated at Mary Margaret.

"Why can't you just listen to me?" Mary Margaret finally asked.

"Why couldn't you have trusted me?" Emma shot back. "I was just trying to find a way to get us home. I could've handled her."

 _Who do you think you are? My mother?_

 _Oh, wait…_

Mary Margaret glared at her. "Cora? Don't be so sure! I've lived here, Emma. I know this world, and its dangers."

"Wait here," a guard ordered before leaving them and disappearing into one of the small buildings, which was guarded more heavily than the rest.

Emma folded her arms asked, "Is that why you came through the portal? 'Cause you thought I was helpless here?"

Mary Margaret looked at here incredulously and shook her head. "No," she breathed. "I came through to be with you."

As she processed Mary Margaret's words, Emma felt a twinge of guilt that she asked at all. And as much as her instincts told her to push it away, she felt just a little bit of happiness as well, as slowly came to realize that she had a mother. A mother who wanted to be with her. It didn't take away the pain of the last 28 years, but it was a start.

A big-boned, dark-skinned man in armor emerged from the guarded structure. While Emma at first expected this to be an interrogation, she had different thoughts when she saw Mary Margaret's face light up. "Lancelot?" she gasped, as the two quickened their paces and ran into each other's arms like they were best pals.

When they pulled away, laughing, the man grasped Mary Margaret's hands. "If I'd known you were the prisoners Mulan brought back, I wouldn't have locked you away. Please forgive me."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said softly.

Meanwhile, Emma couldn't believe this guy was Lancelot. Like, _the_ Lancelot? _King Arthur and the Round Table_ Lancelot? _Gimme a break._

"Lancelot? Really?"

Mary Margaret grinned, patting Lancelot's shoulder. "He's an old friend. We can trust him."

Emma hesitated, but then pressed her lips into a thin line and stepped forward. "Right."

"Lancelot, this is my daughter, Emma," Mary Margaret said, putting a hand on Emma's arm and pulling her closer.

"Hi," Emma said, holding up a hand and trying not to be awkward.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma," Lancelot replied, holding out a hand which Emma shook. "I knew your mother before you were born. She always had a spark in her eye. I can see you have one as well. And a strong grip, too. Excellent."

Emma gave him a closed-lipped smile. "Yeah—thanks."

Lancelot smiled. "My apologies. You must be a bit bewildered by all this."

"Just a little. Not—a big deal, really."

Mary Margaret said, "Don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of all this."

"Of course," Lancelot said with a nod. "But first—the two of you must be famished. Why don't we get you something to eat? Get your strength up?"

"That sounds fantastic," Mary Margaret said. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble," he replied.

A few minutes later Mary Margaret and Emma were sitting down at a table outside, waiting for their first meal in over a day. Lancelot appeared after a short time and dropped on the table a plate of some kind of meat Emma had never seen before.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, not caring at this point for her manners.

"That is chimera," Lancelot said. "An acquired taste, but it's all our hunting party could bring back. Part lion, part serpent, part goat."

Emma jabbed a piece of the strange meat with a big fork. "Like turducken?"

But Mary Margaret was eager to get to the point. "I don't understand. We were told this land didn't even exist anymore. How did you all escape the curse?"

"It's a mystery," Lancelot said. "The curse struck, and when the smoke cleared, most of us had been torn from this land. But some of us here, in this particular region, were left behind. We don't know how and we don't know why. Finding this safe haven wasn't easy. Took some spilled blood. But worry not. You're safe here."

Mary Margaret shook her head regretfully. "We can't stay. My husband is back there. Emma's son—my _grandson_. We have to get back to them. Can you help us find a portal?"

"Leaving is unwise," Lancelot warned. "The Enchanted Forest is not as you remember it. The ogres have returned."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "Ogres? As in Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum?"

Mary Margaret placed a hand on hers. "Those would be giants."

Emma shut her mouth again, feeling like a total idiot.

"Ogres are far worse," Lancelot said, "And that's why we live here, on this island, where it's safe. Please, Snow… stay here. There are no portals left."

Mary Margaret hesitated slightly, but then leaned forward. "I might know of one."

"You do?" Emma chimed in.

Lancelot asked, "Where?"

Mary Margaret started to speak at first, but then shook her head. "Cora's near. I don't feel comfortable voicing my plans. She's powerful."

"Not anymore," Lancelot said. "The curse stripped her of her powers. But given her reputation, we've kept her locked up as a precaution."

"Nevertheless," Mary Margaret said, "I'm not taking any chances. Trust me. I may have a way. Let us go."

Lancelot seemed to consider briefly, but then he nodded. "I'll allow it. But on one condition. Take my bravest warrior with you. Allow Mulan to defend you." Then he beckoned over the armed woman, Mulan, who had dragged them behind her horse no more than an hour ago. Emma wasn't too fond of having to be defended by anyone, let alone someone who'd already pissed her off enough for one day.

"We can defend ourselves," Emma said.

But Mary Margaret dismissed her insistence. "Deal," she snapped, causing Emma to turn and glare at her. "Thank you, Lancelot," she finished, "For always looking out for me."

Realizing it was pointless to try to argue, Emma just rolled her eyes and moved on for now. Making a fuss over small fry wasn't going to get them home any sooner. She stayed quiet for most of their meal, up until the point Mulan brought them to suit up for their journey. By this point Emma was completely exhausted and wasn't even sure she had the energy left to start off on another trip today, but she didn't dare admit it.

Emma once again felt unsure how to act when Mulan opened up a trunk filled with a variety of weapons she had no idea how to use properly. Swords, bows and arrows… God, she was not cut out for this Middle Ages crap.

"Choose wisely," Mulan said as Emma tentatively pulled out a knife and stuck it in her boot. "We must be vigilant if we hope to survive the journey."

"Where's my gun?" Emma asked. "I want it back."

Mulan nodded. Then, with a gesture of her hand, she beckoned a familiar green-eyed woman in their direction. She'd been conversing with some other man in uniform, but the instant she saw Mulan asking for her attention, she said something to him quickly and then made her way over. "You rang?" Willow said, stopping close at Mulan's side.

"Sorry, this won't take long," Mulan told her. "Emma would like you to return her—um—"

"My gun," Emma repeated.

Willow nodded in understanding. "Oh, this?" She then pulled the small weapon out of her jacket and held it out to Emma. "It shouldn't be damaged."

"What is it?" Mulan asked. "Magic?"

Emma smirked humorlessly and took the gun. "Depends on who's pulling the trigger."

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Willow said, holding out her hand. "Call me Willow."

In return, Emma offered a dry smile and shook her hand. "Well, I'd say we're already pretty well acquainted considering you tackled me and nearly cut my throat."

Willow smiled, and for the first time Emma noticed that she was actually quite beautiful, in a way that was almost impish and fairy-like. "It was nothing personal, I hope you know. Mercy and me don't exactly go hand in hand."

"We understand," Mary Margaret said as she pulled a sword and a bow out of the trunk. "You were just doing your job."

"Are the two of you ready for this?" Willow asked. Then, glancing at Mulan, "Can you look after them on your own?"

"We'll manage," Mulan replied. "So long as the two of _you_ do exactly as I say."

"I think we're okay." Emma couldn't resist. "I just killed a dragon this week."

Mulan, however, didn't look particularly impressed. What, were dragons not considered a big deal in this land? Emma was liking this place less and less every moment. Then, Mulan stepped forward and glared at her. "Have you ever seen an ogre?"

"Pretty sure I've date a few."

As expected, Mulan didn't care for the joke, either. Not even Willow or Mary Margaret granted her a chuckle. "Legend has it that when they kill you, the last thing you see is yourself dying in the reflection in their eyes."

A few seconds of silence passed, as even Emma wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement. She still didn't see why none of these people believed she could handle herself. No thanks to her parents she'd been handling herself since she was a kid. Sure, she was in unfamiliar territory here, but that didn't mean she wasn't adaptable. I mean, she was adaptable, right?

After those few dreadful seconds, it was Willow who decided to speak first.

"Well, if you're worried about ogres, why don't you take this?" The woman reached into her jacket and pulled out a tiny black whistle. Emma was at first reluctant to take it when it was presented to her. Not because she had suspicions about its nature, but because she was sick of other people trying to help her out.

"What's that?"

"Willow's ogre whistle. It repels them if they're nearby." Mulan replied before Willow had the chance to explain, her eyes wide and intense. Then, turning to her, Mulan said, "We don't need it. We'll be just fine."

"You will need it," Willow insisted. "There are ogres ravaging the land out there. You will need all the protection you can get."

"Are you sure?" Mulan asked.

"Of course." Willow held the whistle further out toward Emma, who finally gave in and took it. "I probably won't have use for it here. I'm glad to help you in any way I can. Consider it my official apology for being a little rough on you earlier." She smiled sweetly, as if it was no big deal. Emma didn't think Willow would have killed her earlier, but still—these people were brutal. She was definitely going to have to watch her back out here.

"Gee, thanks," Emma muttered, sticking the whistle in her pocket after briefly inspecting it. To her, it just looked like an everyday piece of junk. But she was learning quickly that the world wasn't always what it appeared to be.

Mulan nodded. "I'll make sure to get it back to you. It'll be great help out there. I appreciate it." Then, motioning to Emma and Mary Margaret, she said, "Let's walk. It'll be dark soon."

Slinging her arrows over her back as Mulan started away, Mary Margaret smiled. "Thank you, Willow."

"No problem at all," Willow said. "I wish you all the best of luck. And—Emma? I do hope you and your mother find your way home."

Emma paused in mid-step as she was turning in direction her companions were headed. She didn't remember any of them telling Willow any details of their mission. Lancelot agreed it should be kept a secret. So how did she know about it? Perhaps she simply overheard one of their conversations?

Hesitantly, Emma made a quick farewell gesture toward Willow. "Thanks," she murmured. "I'll take care of your whistle." After that, she picked herself up from her slump and quickened her pace so she could catch up to Mary Margaret. "She was—interesting. You know her?"

"Willow?" Mary Margaret asked. "No, I have no idea who she is. And actually—I didn't even know there were any ogre whistles left in existence. I heard they used to be made long ago for soldiers and hunters, but you need a certain kind of magic for them to work."

Emma sighed. "Right… of course. What kind of magic?"

"Siren magic," she replied simply. "But there aren't many of them around anymore, either. Lucky us, though, right? That should help protect us if we run into any ogres. Hopefully we won't."

"Yeah, well Mulan seems confident we'll meet one or two."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "You shouldn't let her rattle you. I won't let anything happen to us. Just stick to the plan."

"What _is_ the plan?" Emma asked. "You haven't told me anything. What's going on?"

Mary Margaret leaned closer and lowered her tone. "The wardrobe."

Emma kept her voice at the same quiet level, despite hardly being able to contain her surprise. "The wardrobe. _The_ wardrobe? The wardrobe that sent little baby me to Maine? You think that can get us back to Storybrooke?"

"I don't know," Mary Margaret replied. "First we have to see if it survived the curse. Then we'll worry about making it work."

"Where is it?"

With a smile, Mary Margaret turned toward her. "My place. You wanna see where you're from, Emma? That's right! We're going home."

* * *

 **Yeah, so that's chapter 1. I had fun filling in some extra conversation and some of what I thought the characters would have said between scenes. But the only BIG difference in this chapter is Willow's presence. Yes, she's my OC, and yes, she will continue to be developed. Her presence will cause changes to the story in both the past and the present timelines. And yes, she is in fact based on a fairytale. Sort of. Maybe not a well-known fairytale - but you'll find out soon enough.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. The Wardrobe

**Hello, peeps! Welcome to chapter 2 of Song of the Savior, entitled, The Wardrobe. This chapter is a bit longer than the first one, and it features several different perspectives. Not just Emma's. In this chapter we get a little of Gold's perspective, as well as Snow's, and even a short bit of Cora's. And, at the end, we do finally get some of Willow's point of view as well.**

 **So, just to be clear before anyone reads this and freaks out, although I'd rather not spoil too much, this fanfic does in fact feature a romance between my OC and Rumple. Belle will still be present in the story, but probably in a different context and I'm not sure what kind of role she might have yet. Please don't misunderstand and think I am a hater of Belle or the relationship she has with Rumple. In fact, I've shipped those two since Skin Deep. However, in light of more recent episodes and the, in my opinion, terrible injustice of their relationship and Rumple's character, I wanted to go a slightly different direction. I thought to myself, what if Rumple didn't fall in love with a completely innocent, righteous young lady like Belle? What if he instead fell for someone whose past was every bit as twisted as his? Or at least someone who had the capacity to understand and accept his darkness.**

 **Anyway, that's where the idea for this story originated. So, yes, we will be learning about Willow's story, probably starting in the next chapter, and eventually her history with Rumple and some of the other characters as well.**

 **Hope you find some enjoyment!**

 **Disclaimer: I have zero rights to Once Upon a Time or its plot devices.**

Chapter 2: The Wardrobe

 **Earlier…**

Mr. Gold stood at his desk, impatiently flipping through book pages, despite knowing that no amount of searching would do him much good while he was still seething on the inside. All the work he'd put into the curse, into making sure that all his pieces were perfectly in place—and yet his goal remained just out of reach. Would he be doomed to another century of searching—waiting for his chance to make things right?

He let out a frustrated sigh and touched his forehead, sure that he felt a splitting headache coming on. He wanted something that would calm his nerves. He wanted tea. And tea always made him think of—

A strong desire to shove knives in his ears came over Gold when the annoying tinkling of his doorbell signaled a person's unwarranted entrance and forced him out of his thoughts. He glanced up with half a mind to wave his hand and transform them into something unpleasant that he could easily squash. Like a leech or an insect. He almost smiled at the mental picture.

But instead, he simply gave his visitor a pointed look. "What could you possibly want now, Regina?"

Gold's rival and most prized pupil stopped in her tracks half way across the room, and suddenly it occurred to him that he'd neglected to repair the damage to the cabinets he smashed an hour ago. His cane was still lying on the floor, while hundreds of broken glass shards were scattered around the walk space.

Regina stepped gingerly around some of the carnage. "What the hell is this?" she demanded. "Oh, please tell me you didn't have a tantrum in here while I was gone."

Gold cocked his head, observing her movements closely as he flicked his wrist to fix the cabinets within a few short seconds. "That's hardly any of your business," he told her blandly and watched her cross the newly de-cluttered shop floor to the edge of his desk. He shut his book before she was close enough to see what he was reading.

She scoffed. "You can be such a petulant child."

"And you certainly have quite a bit of room to be name-calling, given how well you've accepted your—defeat. No one likes a sore loser, Dearie."

"I am _not_ defeated," she hissed, causing Gold to raise his eyebrows slightly. "These people may know the truth now but they are still trapped here. And now _I_ have my magic back."

"No, no, Love," Gold said with a short laugh. "I didn't mean them. I meant Henry. Accepting the fact that he's never going to forgive you after all you've done. I mean, we both know you can't make someone love you. That's something you have to earn, isn't it?"

Regina crossed her arms. "And what, you don't think I'm capable of that?"

He shrugged and casually moved to return his book to its resting place. "Who am I to say? That's up to you."

"So then, what am I supposed to do?" she asked in an exasperated tone.

"Is this really why you came to me? To figure out how to solve all your problems?"

She let out a huff and began pacing in front of the desk. "Well, it's not like I have anyone else to talk to, is it?"

"True," Gold said. "But the problem with that is, and it may come as a shock to you, but I still have no desire whatsoever to help you. I relented on your mother's spell book, but I wouldn't push it further, Dearie. My patience is thin, today."

Regina smirked. "Why, because your master plan didn't work out and you can't leave town? That's what this is about, isn't it? You said you were planning a trip. Where exactly are you headed that's so special? Or more importantly, what are you looking for?"

"Again—not your business."

"Oh, come on, I talk to you about everything!"

She said it almost as if she meant it as a joke, but Gold wasn't really in the mood. "Right. Except when it's inconvenient for you. And disclosing my plans to you is certainly not convenient for me."

"You bastard," Regina hissed. "And all this time I thought you were on my side."

"I'm on no one's side but mine—I'd have thought you knew that by now."

"Everything you did—training me, giving me the curse, not doing a thing to try to escape it—you really did want all this to happen, didn't you? After all you've put me through—I deserve to know what this is about."

Gold scoffed. _Entitled as always. Like mother, like daughter._ "After all I've put you through? Really. I gave you everything you always wanted. But your failures are on you. You don't deserve anything."

" _My_ failures? No, no. You did this. You knew the curse would be broken from the very beginning—"

"Which I did warn you about, by the way."

"No! You may have given me everything, but the only reason it was all ripped away was because of you. You did me no favors."

Gold leaned closer to her and smiled dryly. "Well, then, if I've never done you any favors, then why do you keep coming back? Face it, Regina. You need me. You always have. Perhaps you should have thought about that before lying to me."

Her face grew tinted with red, maybe a combination of anger and embarrassment. She gritted her teeth and flattened her palm on the desk. "Okay, so withheld the truth to further my own agenda. As if you wouldn't do the same thing."

"Oh, certainly I would. But you shouldn't make enemies of those around you unless you are willing and able to shoulder the consequences."

She glared at him. "You already sent out a wraith to rip out my soul. I'd think we'd be even." When he simply raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at her, she hissed out, "I'm _sorry_. That good enough for you?"

"I think not," Gold said.

She pushed away from the desk with an angry release of air that made her look far younger than she was, and it amused him only slightly. "You know what? Fine. I don't need you. I'll figure this out on my own." Then, as she turned away from him, she snapped, "And good luck with your memory potion." She slammed the door on the way out, and the bell vibrations made his ears ache. He wondered if perhaps he should just get rid of the bell altogether. He hated it, anyway.

After a few seconds, he smiled and let out a small chuckle. _Oh, Regina… you've become more like Cora than you know._ But luckily for him—not entirely.

Feeling surprisingly more composed after having it out with Regina, Gold let out a sigh and turned away from his desk, where he opened up one of his little cabinets against the wall. Inside sat a tiny vial, holding a single drop of tree sap. It glowed green, faintly even in the light of the room. Gold removed it from its spot and held it between two fingers, bewitched by its glow. He knew what it meant, but there was a part of him that still didn't believe it.

"Oh, Willow," he murmured under his breath, "Where are you?"

* * *

 **Yesterday…**

 _"Well, it's certainly been a long time," Gold said. "And what can I do for you?"_

 _Jefferson reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small vial. Holding it out gently toward Gold, he asked, "You know what this is, I expect?"_

 _At first, Gold was too shocked to speak. Even when he opened his mouth, no words came. As Jefferson said, he did indeed recognize the drop of magic inside the bottle, but the fact that it was here at all in front of his own eyes—it was impossible._

 _"Where did you get that?" he asked, forehead creasing as he regarded the former Hatter._

 _"She gave it to me long ago," Jefferson said. "I kept it in case I ever needed its restorative properties."_

 _"Then why show it to me?" Gold regarded him with a suspicious glare._

 _"Because I happen to know that you have a history with the person this belongs to," he said. "I also know that you've thought her dead up until now. But—I think it's safe to say Regina's no stranger to lying."_

 _Gold narrowed his eyes on the vial. "Let me guess. Regina broke a deal with you and now you want me to take care of her."_

 _Jefferson slowly stepped forward, putting the object within arm's reach. "I just want her to suffer."_

 _"Oh, trust me," Gold replied, wrapping his fingers tightly around the piece of glass as his blood boiled with a new-found resentment. "She will."_

* * *

 **Now…**

Emma, Mary Margaret, and Mulan trudged along through the forest until after sundown. The air became brisk as night fell on them, and Emma was glad that she had her jacket with her. Eventually they stopped in a large, rather conspicuous clearing in the forest, where Mulan decided it was a good idea to set up camp. And when she suggested collecting firewood, Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Um, if we're hiding from ogres, shouldn't we maybe, I don't know, not start a fire?"

Mary Margaret replied, "Ogres are blind. They hunt by sound alone."

Emma frowned. _Of course._ "Right, because that's something everyone would know about ogres."

"Look," Mary Margaret hesitated, "I know you're out of your element—"

"I'm fine."

"I know… but maybe you should just stay here while we get wood and water. Guard the campsite?"

"You mean the big empty clearing?"

"It's the safest place," Mary Margaret said. "We'll be right back."

But as she turned to leave with Mulan, Emma was sure she'd never felt more embarrassed or insulted in all her life. God, she hated feeling so helpless.

For several minutes she simply stood around and waited little a good little girl while her companions were gathering some supplies, but it got old fast. Emma wasn't the one used to being left on the side. She'd always had to be on the frontlines because that's where she was the most comfortable. She couldn't fathom the idea of trusting anyone else with her life. One thing she learned quite early on in life—no one was ever going to look out for her. She had to do it herself.

Emma was pulled out of her frustration when she thought she heard some noise nearby. She quickly moved to check it out, just in case it was a threat and her companions needed her. However, what she found in the trees when she moved closer to the noise were her companions and one extra she couldn't make out in the dark, fighting about something.

"Don't talk to her like that!"

"She tried to kill me!"

"I will deal with her!"

Emma's warning signals went off when she saw a weapon come out, and her first instinct was to grab for her gun. She didn't even stop to hesitate before pointing it up in the air and shooting.

All three woman turned to stare at her with horrified glances on their faces. "Emma, what are you doing?" Mary Margaret hissed.

Emma pointed the gun at Mulan as a warning. "Protecting you. Drop the weapon."

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

No sooner had Mary Margaret finished that sentence that a low growl broke through the dark forest. It took Emma all of a few seconds to realize her deadly mistake before Mary Margaret cried out and they all took off running into the grabbed the other woman's hand to lead them along as Emma kept a hurried pace beside Mary Margaret, her heart pumping in her chest with adrenaline.

Luckily, the forest was not dense in their area so they were able to keep a straight path, but the ground shook under their very feet due to the heavy footsteps of the ogre on their trail. "Emma, the whistle!" Mary Margaret shouted through quickened breaths, reminding her of what she was too frazzled to remember in her haste.

Immediately Emma started digging through her jacket looking for the whistle that would supposedly ward off the ogre threat. She felt it on her fingers, but while she was distracted, a fallen branch caught her foot. She tumbled forward, falling behind her group. While still on her back, Emma turned to face the monster emerging from the shadows, approaching her compromised form. It looked almost human, but it was bald, muscular, and four times her size.

 _Holy shit…_

She didn't cry out or call for help—her impulses got the best of her again and she pulled out her gun. But the instance she held it up to the ogre's face, it smacked the weapon out of her grasp.

"Seriously?" she muttered, her heart beating a mile a minute. The ogre let out a horrific roar, causing her to flinch back.

She reached into her pocket one more time. _Whistle…_

Seeing as it was her only shot, she pulled out the little piece of junk and just blew on it as hard as she could. The screeching frequency was enough to hurt her own ears, but the ogre yelled out and flinched back, reaching up to try to cover its ears. She blew again, with less force this time, but it had the same effect. The beast stumbled backward, crying and carrying on, while Emma could only lie on the ground stunned as opposed to run away like a smart person probably would have done. The ogre turned clumsily and started in the opposite direction, as if to escape the sound of the whistle, but it didn't get far.

Mary Margaret was waiting for her opportunity. And as soon as the ogre's face was in full view, she pulled out her bow and struck it right in the eye. It fell to the ground, causing a miniature earthquake beneath them, and went still almost instantly.

Finally, Emma was coherent enough to stand on her feet, although she was still staring at the whistle Willow gave her. Honestly, she couldn't believe it actually worked. She grabbed her gun off the ground, which, unfortunately, had been pulverized by the ogre. She was even more surprised to find when she approached Mary Margaret, who pulled her arrow out of the ogre's eye, that there was blood seeping out of the creature's ears.

"This thing really works," Emma said incredulously, inspecting the damage from a slight distance.

Mary Margaret nodded. "It'll hurt them, yeah. It doesn't kill them, though. You have to shoot them in the eye."

Through labored breaths, Emma asked, "When was the last time you shot an arrow?"

Mary Margaret shrugged and said, "Twenty-eight years ago. I guess it's like riding a bike."

Emma's jaw dropped a bit. "Yeah, but—how'd you know you could hit that?"

"I didn't," Mary Margaret replied. And then, with a small smile, "Next time, listen to me? That kind of thing isn't going to work here." She gestured mildly to Emma's now useless weapon.

Emma of course, who was all but speechless at this point, just nodded and muttered, "Yeah."

"We should get going." And Mary Margaret led on.

In the end, the group didn't get much rest since they were forced to move again after the ogre attack. Other than some brief stops during the night, they kept moving until their feet were sore. Luckily, Emma had pretty decent stamina.

And for the rest of the night, Emma stuck to doing what she was told. In fact, for the most part she kept her mouth shut altogether. Whether she liked it or not, based on the tragedy she nearly caused she realized that she was completely out of sorts in this land. And her own stubborn pride wasn't worth putting everyone else at risk. She didn't care how they accomplished it. All she wanted was to make it home to her son.

"We're getting close," Mary Margaret said eventually, as they made their way through the dark.

Lagging in the back was now Aurora (Or, Emma guessed, the notorious Sleeping Beauty), the woman who'd shown up unannounced before the ogre attack. As Emma had observed about her on the way to the encampment, she was frailer than her other companions and struggled quite a bit to keep up their pace, which Mulan scolded her for more than once.

"Sorry, but I'm not exactly dressed for the woods," Aurora said. "It's cold out here!"

"Well, then maybe you should have listened to me and stayed back," Mulan snapped.

Emma let out a sigh and began shrugging off her jacket. "Here," she said quietly, holding it out to the princess.

Aurora took the garment hesitantly. "But I—tried to kill your friend."

In an exhausted tone, Emma replied, "Actually, she's my mom. I have a feeling she can take care of herself. And I get it. You're not the only one who's been screwing up lately."

"Up here," Mulan called from a break in the trees up ahead.

Emma hurried to Mary Margaret's side, where she looked out across a long body of water reflecting the moonlight, and a castle sitting in the distance. "Is that it?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mary Margaret said wistfully. "That's our home."

* * *

From the moment they stepped through the castle gate, Snow wasn't sure she was going to be able to hold herself together. There was a part of her that wanted to stay strong for her companions, and her daughter in particular, but it took every ounce of strength for her to hold the tears back when they entered the nursery. The room seemed so dark and lonely now, even though years ago it was filled with light and promises for her future with Charming and their little girl. The crib was toppled over and covered with dust, toys strewn about—Emma didn't even know what all this meant to her. What it meant to all of them.

"Oh my God," Emma said, immediately making her way over to the wardrobe. "I recognize this from Henry's book."

Mulan and Aurora left the room to go stand watch at the gate, and while Emma was distracted Snow stayed busy strolling down memory lane. "I never thought I'd see this place again," she murmured, picking up the ratty old stuffed bear that was supposed to go in Emma's crib. "This room… it was your nursery."

"I lived here?" Emma asked.

Snow shook her head. "You never even got to spend a night." Then, after a pause and a look around at the shadowy walls, "This is the life I wanted you to have. I was going to teach you how to walk in here. How to talk… how to dress for your first ball. You never got to do any of it. We never got to be a family."

"We have a family," Emma said with resolve, shaking Snow out of her moment. As Emma lazily slipped her jacket on, she continued, "In Storybrooke. And right now, they need us to get back there. So—how do we get this to work?" She pointed to the wardrobe, and even as Snow moved beside Emma to take a look, her heart sank with regret.

They opened up the wardrobe together, and Emma asked, "Where's the 'on' switch?"

Snow shook her head. "It's more complicated than that. We'll have to get it back to the island. Hopefully someone there has access to enough magic to make it work again."

"How are we gonna carry this thing?" Emma added.

"With the help of an old friend."

The familiar voice caught Snow's attention, and she turned toward the door. Approaching her was none other than Lancelot, who was just about the last person she expected to see. "Lancelot! What are you doing here?"

"We heard about the ogre attack and I had to make sure you were all right," Lancelot said.

 _Well, that news traveled fast… how exactly…?_

"Where are Mulan and Aurora?" Snow asked.

Lancelot replied, "I sent them to find food. Tonight we'll make camp, and then in the morning, we'll head back." Snow nodded, and Lancelot turned to look at the wardrobe. "So this is it—the portal you were after."

"The same one Emma went through," Snow said. "That's how she skipped the curse."

"Remarkable…" Lancelot murmured under his breath, causing Snow to cast him a narrow side glance out of suspicion.

"Geppetto carved it from an enchanted tree, but there's no magic left."

"Well, a portal this powerful… there must be a way to recharge it," Lancelot said.

Snow smiled, now convinced that something wasn't quite right. "Why are you so interested in the wardrobe?" she asked casually.

Lancelot turned to them. "Well—I just want you to get home to your husband—" Then, with a glance at Emma, he said, "And son. Henry. They must miss you."

It was then that Snow knew. Stepping in front of Emma and pulling out her sword, she pointed it squarely at Lancelot. Or… the person impersonating Lancelot, for that matter. "Stay away from him, Emma," she said, not taking her eyes off the imposter. "He's not who he says he is."

"What are you talking about?" Emma asked nervously. "Who the hell is he?"

"There's only _one_ person you told Henry's name."

A short pause fell between them. Emma swallowed. "Cora."

With that, the figure of Lancelot became engulfed in purple smoke, and Regina's mother appeared, hands on her hips. "Clever girl," Cora said, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Where's Lancelot?" Snow demanded, still holding her sword up, despite knowing it likely wouldn't be much help against Cora, who she knew to have power that nearly rivaled Rumpelstiltskin's.

"Oh, he's dead," Cora said in a nonchalant tone. "I killed him a long time ago."

Snow's heart broke a little at that point. "And you've been posing as him ever since?"

"Well, they'd never listen to me," Cora explained. "And besides, every kingdom needs a hero, don't you think?"

Snow was about through listened to this monstrous woman talk, and moved in to attack. But she didn't make it far, as Cora reacted quickly and waved her hand, forcing her back against the wall. Emma didn't even get a chance to move. She was on the ground at the other side of the room in an instant.

Snow felt something pressing on her windpipe, and she could barely breathe. Cora had a smug smile on her face as she approached Snow's paralyzed body. "Thank you, Snow," she said pleasantly. "I've been looking for a way over for so long. I never thought the person to help me find it would be you." Emma stood up to run to Snow's aid, but once again it was futile. Without even turning around, Cora wrapped her legs up in the floor rug and tripped her mid-step.

Through her swallow breaths, Snow whispered, "Why—why are you doing this?"

"I want to see my daughter," Cora said. "It's been too long. And you know, I would love to meet my grandson, Henry."

A wave of panic shot through Snow when she mentioned Henry, even though she was powerless to have a say in the matter. It was Emma who played out the next move while Cora was distracted. "No, you won't!" she shouted, leaping away from the wardrobe immediately after setting it on fire using the wood and one of the bullets from her gun.

" _No!_ " Cora hissed, turning and grabbing the ball of fire in her hand. Snow struggled in vain to free herself as Cora hurled the fire toward Emma in her rage, but Mulan appeared just in the nick of time. She deflected the flames with her sword, earning a deadly snarl of frustration from Cora, who, just moments ago, had spoken with such gentle conviction. "We're not done," the witch said through her teeth, and then disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

Snow sucked in a relieved breath of air as she stumbled to the floor and coughed from the pressure on her throat. "Are you okay?" Emma asked, hurrying toward her.

Holding a hand to her stomach while still trying to catch her breath, Snow said, "You saved me."

Emma laughed. "Yeah, well—where is she?"

Snow let out a sigh. "Gone." _Thankfully…_

At that point, both of them turned toward the enchanted wardrobe, now engulfed in flames with no hope of restoring it. "So is our ride home," Emma murmured ruefully. But even though a heavy weight rested on Snow's chest now that their only possible way home that she knew was destroyed, she was more satisfied knowing that Cora wouldn't be able to use it.

After putting out the fire and determining without a doubt that the wardrobe was now useless, the four women stood together in silence. Softly, Aurora said, "So all this time—Lancelot?"

"Lancelot was one of the most noble knights I ever knew," Snow said, turning away so she could close her eyes.

"How could I be so blind?" Mulan said. "How could I not see that it was Cora?"

"Well, to be fair, the whole shape-shifting thing threw me, too," Emma said.

"What are we going to tell the people on the island?" Mulan asked.

"The truth!" Snow insisted, turning around. "That Lancelot was cut down by a terrible villain. He died an honorable death."

Mulan nodded in understanding, but then added, "Cora's still out there. We need to find her and defend what's left of the kingdom."

"Who's going to lead us? You?" Aurora asked.

"No," Mulan said, turning her head toward Snow. "Her."

Snow's eyes widened. When in the world was this decided? While she had no fear of being a leader, she wasn't expecting such a request to come from these two.

"Well—I'm honored," she said after a moment's pause. "But Emma and I still have to find a way back to Storybrooke."

"We'll help you," Mulan said, in a softer tone than any of them had heard out of her thus far. "We'll find a way, won't we?"

Aurora smiled. "Yes… perhaps—it'll help me channel my anger."

Snow smiled back and granted her a nod.

After that they all headed out, but once Aurora and Mulan were out the door, Emma bid Snow to hang back. Jabbing her thumbs into her back pockets, Emma muttered, "I'm, uh… sorry I torched our ride home. I couldn't let her get to Henry. I just—"

"You had to put Henry first," Snow said, smiling so Emma knew she understood. But then, the conversation took a different turn that even Snow wasn't sure she was ready for.

There was a long second of pause. Emma's eyes were wide and filled with terror, as if she was about to give a speech in front of a room of people for the first time. Snow stayed quiet to let her speak, but Emma may as well have stabbed her in the heart when she began, "I—I was angry at you for so long. Wondering how—you could choose to let me grow up without you." Emma's face contorted as her eyes shined with tears. "But then I just—seeing all this—You gave up _everything_ for me. And you're still doing that."

Snow gave Emma a sad smile as she stopped again to compose herself. But this time it failed, and her voice weakened. "I—I'm sorry, I'm not good at this. I—I guess I just… I'm not—I'm not used to someone putting me first."

Tears began oozing out of the corners of her daughter's eyes, and Snow immediately closed the distance and wrapped her arms around her. Emma returned the embrace, shaking mildly in her arms—and Snow took a few seconds to imagine that Emma was a little girl again. The little girl she never got a chance to meet.

Squeezing her closer, Snow whispered, "Well, get used to it." That made Emma laugh, and Snow pulled away, brushing some tears off her daughter's cheek. In an effort to recover from her emotional moment, Emma laughed it off and turned to leave. Snow slung her arrows over her shoulder and made to follow her, but first turned back to look at her nursery one last time.

She pictured it in her mind how it should have been—full of light and colors, the baby in her crib with all the toys she and David were going to use to spoil her. But none of it happened the way she planned. She missed her daughter's whole childhood and there was no getting it back. Even so, she had the rest of her life to make up for lost time and no curse would take _that_ away. She'd have liked to see it try.

* * *

That heartfelt moment between Snow and her daughter was sweet and all, but frankly, Cora was exhausted from all the blubbering and crying and felt relieved when they were finally gone. Maybe in another life she would have been sympathetic to their plight, but after all these years the heavy burden of emotions had grown numb, almost like a severed limb.

It was all for the best as far as she was concerned.

With a smile gracing her elegant lips, Cora reentered Snow's nursery with a vial in hand and bent down on her knees before the enchanted wardrobe. Or, what was left of it, at least. Such a lovely wardrobe—it was almost a shame that it had been destroyed.

Making sure that no one was nearby, Cora reached down to scoop some of the remaining ashes of the wardrobe into the vial. As she peered at the dust, her smile widened and her held the vial tightly between her fingers. She thought of Regina, waiting for her in the new land. Soon they would be reunited. Soon they would be mother and daughter again, as they were always meant to be. Even if Regina resisted her at first, that would change quickly. Whether she knew it or not, Regina was going to need her again.

Cora would make certain of that.

* * *

 **The Next Day…**

"So, is she supposed to get here sometime this week or what?" Willow asked as she sat and drew pictures in the sand with a stick. She had long since thrown off her shoes and buried her toes in the sand—but the sky was dark and the ground felt cool under her skin, and the sound of the water rushing back and forth on the shore sent chills down her spine.

Captain Killian Jones, also known by many as Hook, who was currently busy looking across the water at the safe stretch of land from a distance through a small telescope, let out a frustrated sigh in response to Willow's question. "She'll get here when she gets here, love—why so impatient?"

"Because I'm bored," Willow said simply.

"Well, maybe you should go for a swim, then."

"I'm not that good at swimming."

"Oh, brilliant. Even better. Maybe then you'll drown and be free of your misery."

Willow pretended to be insulted. "Do you ever have anything kind to say?"

"Do you ever stop complaining?" Hook shot back.

Willow looked up at him, squinting from the sunlight, and smiled sweetly. "Only when you aren't around, darling. I know how much you love hearing me talk."

He dropped his arm and glared at her. "You know, my patience only stretches so far. And if you continue to get on my nerves, I may just have to shove my hook down your windpipe." He held his deadly hand replacement out in front of her in such a threatening manner that she had to subdue her own laughter. To most people it probably wouldn't have been funny to be threatened by a pirate—but she knew he wouldn't try to hurt her. And whether or not he could hurt her if he tried—well, that was a topic up for debate.

"I see," she said, biting her lip. "Well, I'm sorry, Killian, that you feel that way. But if it makes you feel any better, your anger provides me with much-needed entertainment."

Hook rolled his eyes and looked back out at the sea. "Charmed to hear it." Then, after a pause, "Just remember, love, that you're working for us. Not the other way around. We could easily dispose of you."

With a laugh, Willow said, "Oh, you think so? Excuse me, but I believe I'm the one who's been all over the forest looking for the magic we need."

"Yes, and you've done such an excellent job so far."

"I don't see _you_ making process, _Captain_."

"All right, that's quite enough out of you two for one afternoon." Hook and Willow both turned in surprise when an extra voice joined in on their conversation.

"Hello, Cora," Hook said, his voice suddenly radiating calm at the new presence, which, as usual, appeared with little warning.

Cora, a petite woman who had a grand presence and a smile despite the ice in her eyes, approached and came to a stop at Hook's side. He continued, "You said you had something important to show us?"

In response, Cora held out a vial, filled with some sort of magic inside it. Of course, Hook didn't see the significance. "Sparkly dirt," he said. "Wonderful." Willow snickered and he shot a side-glare in her direction.

"Just the remains of a magical wardrobe that can travel between worlds," Cora said.

Willow's eyes widened. "Really? How'd you manage to get your hands on that?" Portals to other realms were scarce at best. But a dimension-jumping _wardrobe_? There was only one way that made sense. If the wardrobe was crafted from an enchanted tree. But those weren't exactly easy to come by, either.

Cora smiled gently and put the vial away for safe-keeping. "Let's just say I know how to pick my battles." Vague answers as usual. Cora had a habit of skirting around specifics, and almost never saying exactly what she meant. It reminded Willow quite a bit of someone else she knew.

"So is there enough to get us where we need to go?" Hook asked.

"Not quite," Cora said, "But it's a start."

Hook nodded. "We're almost ready to set sail. What's our port of destination?"

"Storybrooke," Cora replied, causing Willow to raise an eyebrow.

"Strange name for a town. This is where everyone from the rest of the Enchanted Forest went?" Willow folded her arms across her chest.

With a nod of affirmation, Cora said, "Yes—that's where we'll find them all."

Hook didn't smile. He rarely did, but for once Willow did see what looked like a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. "Excellent. So, you'll be able to see your daughter—you'll have your freedom—and I'll be able to skin me a crocodile."

"I'm sure, you'll be thrilled, Willow," Cora said, looking at her across Hook. "Not much longer now and your magic will be yours again."

In return, Willow simply cast the witch a glare, which only caused her to chuckle in amusement and turn away. _Rest assured, once I have my magic back I'll destroy you, Cora…_

Willow released a small sigh, one that was too quiet for Hook or Cora to hear, and turned away in the direction of the sea, allowing the breeze from the water to cool her cheeks. She pressed her lips into a thin line as the silence fell between them, as the truth fell upon her alone. She knew she had to be prepared for what was next. A storm was coming, and she sat on the front lines.

One wrong move, and she was dead.

* * *

 **Fun fact: the last scene in this chapter is actually the first one I wrote for the story, like, a few months ago. I then came back later and wrote the first two chapters. Also, I'm not sure if you noticed, but I also added some original Rumple and Regina material. I was a little creeped out by the direction they went this season, but I've still always thought they had an interesting relationship. So I'll be messing with that a little.**


	3. The Prisoner

**Hello, and welcome to chapter 3 of Song of the Savior, The Prisoner! This ended up being a much quicker update than I expected... I probably shouldn't have spent three hours working on this today when I could have been doing homework... but oh well. It was the weekend, I wanted to do stuff for me, for once, lol. It's been a busy couple of weeks.**

 **Anyway, this is our first flashback chapter. It recounts most of the flashback material that takes place in 2x09 between Cora and Hook, and we'll get to see how Willow fits in. :)**

 **Also, to the guest, I just wanted to say thank you for your review and I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! If I can just make one person happy by writing this, I am happy for it.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time.**

Chapter 3: The Prisoner

 **28 Years Ago**

Willow had long since used a piece of metal to break free of her shackles binding her, but a pair of free hands made her no less a prisoner. The loneliness was crushing, far more than it ever was when she was tied to the forest. At least there, she had the birds and the animals to keep her company. But with a seal on the tower window and a locked door, she couldn't even call for Buzz.

Perhaps it was for the best. It was her love for that little hummingbird that got her into this mess to begin with.

What she waited for atop that tower day and night was an opportunity. Any possibility to escape and get out of this castle and back to her safe haven. She knew the dark curse would likely be coming before long, but she would much rather spend those last moments with someone she actually cared about than alone in this hole. In any other situation, she'd have escaped long ago. But without any magic to protect her, she hadn't the meager hope of an advantage over the Evil Queen.

And for several weeks this was her life, going back and forth in her head between wallowing in misery and plotting her big moment. The thing about plans, though, is that they don't always work out quite in the way you might expect.

And one day definitely ended up playing out a little bit differently than she expected.

It all began as usual, Willow sitting in her cell with her back against the stone cold wall, sick and tired of waiting but lost for other options. She longed to sing or dance as a way to pass the time, but for some reason while she was locked away in the dark she couldn't remember any songs to sing, or the steps to them. Her body suffered from the lack of sunlight.

Then came a sound outside her cell. She would normally have paid it no mind, if not for the fact that it was not the sort of noise she expected to hear. It wasn't the sound of guards conversing quietly between shifts, or a lazy cough or shuffle of keys. Instead, it was the sound a struggle or two people fighting. Someone let out a guttural groan.

Willow sprang up from her spot on the ground and crept over toward the door, where, outside, she could now hear footsteps. She swiftly grabbed her metal shackles, since they were the closest thing to a weapon that she had, and stood beside the door where no one would see her until they walked inside.

She heard the door unlock, and waited a heartbeat for it to open. Not wasting any time, she immediately lunged forward and smacked the intruder over the head with the shackles. The man grunted in pain and then slumped over, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Leaning down to inspect him, she realized there was nothing particularly special about the man other than his admittedly dashing good looks and a hook replacing his left hand. So why was he here? He wasn't one of the guards—that much was clear. Did he come to rescue her? That seemed unlikely, and yet... there was something oddly familiar about him.

She dug around in his cloak and jacket to see if he had any weapons on him, but apparently not. All he had was the hook.

 _I suppose it'll have to do._

It came off easily when she twisted it and she internally thanked the poor sap who had waltzed into her cell for who knows what reason before slipping out the door. She took the keys as well and used them to lock him inside, hoping it might buy her a little time. Although she noticed it might not make a difference at all when she got a look at the two guards he slaughtered outside. She snatched up one of their swords, however, thinking it might do her more help than the hook, which she decided to keep anyway. Who knew? It might be better at close range.

After that she quietly and quickly made her way down the staircase, hoping to god that she didn't bump into the Queen along the way. She could take any of the guards in a fight. But a sword never did anyone any good in a battle of magic.

Willow's feet were bare, so they made little noise as she descended the steps, but every little echo was enough to make her flinch. She kept her new weapons as far away from the walls as possible, as she didn't even want to imagine what kind of racket that would make in this gigantic shaft.

Although she made it a point not to stop for any reason, she was still unsure how to plan out her next move. She never was one to do much of anything without at least some form of a direction in mind. But unfortunately for her, she hadn't planned any of this.

The only plan she had in mind this very moment: find her magic and get the hell out.

* * *

 **Later**

When Hook awoke, it was with a pounding in his head and hazy vision. At first he thought perhaps it was due to a night of drinking, but once he sat up and his vision cleared, he realized how bad his situation was.

 _Bloody hell…_

That little wench got the best of him before he'd even had a chance to speak with her. Apparently he'd underestimated what he was getting himself into. Not to mention his hook was missing.

"Have a nice nap, pirate?"

He glanced up with a hand still on his head, and squinted at the figure in front of him. He noticed immediately that she was the Queen, but to him she just looked like another woman with a sparkly dress and too much hair. He'd already had plenty of those in his lifetime. Couldn't she see that he was trying to think?

"Something I can help you with?" he asked when the Queen continued to glare daggers at him.

"Yes, maybe you can," she said in a cold voice. "My prisoner has escaped."

Hook stood up casually and brushed himself off. "Well, clearly, I can see that. You probably should have done a better job securing this place."

She threw her hand up, and suddenly Hook couldn't breathe. He choked on the air and grabbed at his throat, but she kept her grip tight, even from a distance. "You think this is funny? That girl was a valuable chess piece and _you_ let her escape. I have guards all over the palace searching for her, and so far she's nowhere to be found."

He laughed, even as he struggled to get air in and out of his lungs. "Sorry—do I—look like I'm playing a game of chess?" The Queen scowled and released him, turning to pace back and forth in frustration. He coughed and gasped for a few seconds, silently relieved that he could breathe normally again. "If—it's all the same to you," he said, still catching his breath, "Might I have my hook?"

The Queen paused and cocked her head. "No."

"The asking was me being a gentleman."

"'No,' because I don't have it," she hissed. "Willow must have taken it."

"Oh, well, brilliant," Hook said, tossing up his arms slightly. "Then I guess I'll have to find her."

The Queen stopped him as he tried to move past her. "You'll do no such thing."

"Get out of my way."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" She laughed. "You have nothing, _Captain_. And now that you may have just cost me something important of mine, you're going to help me do something else in return."

"And why should I do anything for you?" Hook asked.

With a devilish smile, the Queen said, "You will if you want your chance to skin your crocodile."

* * *

"Things are about to change in this world," the Queen said as she poured Hook a drink. Handing it to him, she continued, "Radically. I have plans to enact a curse that will take everyone to a far-off land."

Hook raised an eyebrow, unsure exactly what the significance was. He had the strange and all-too-familiar feeling that his time was being wasted. "How will that help me?" he asked.

The Queen smiled in a way that made his skin crawl. "This new realm? It's a land without magic. Where the Dark One will be stripped of his powers. There, you won't need any magical weapon to kill him." She moved closer, until she was a few mere inches away and he could even feel the warmth of her skin. "You can do it with a mere flick of your wrist."

Well, that was more like it. Now, she'd actually caught the pirate's interest. "Tell me what I have to do."

Turning away, she went on, "There's one person I don't want following me to this new land. You're to see to it that doesn't happen."

Ah. He should have guessed. "An assassination. Who is it you want me to dispose of?"

There was a short pause, as if the Queen needed a moment to muster the strength to tell him. He understood when she turned her head back toward him again and said, "My mother."

Hook took an awkward sip of his drink. "Oh… family complications, I see?"

The Queen tilted her head and for an instant he thought he saw a hint of a spark in her eyes. "Yes, something like that."

Since he didn't feel as though he was welcome to ask for details at the moment, simply went with, "Well, then, where will I find this woman?"

Approaching him slowly, the Queen reached out for him. "Give me your hand."

Hook hesitated, not sure he wanted her touching him given the fact that she didn't need to touch him at all to hurt him. "What, why?" He asked, only a bit defensively.

The Queen rolled her eyes as if she thought he was acting like a troublesome child. "Relax and hold out your hand." After a few seconds, he relented, put down his drink, and did as she asked, allowing her to wave her fingertips over his palm. He flinched as he felt a tiny shock through his arm, and briefly wondered if he was about to lose another hand. He really couldn't imagine having to live with two hooks. It would be terribly inconvenient.

However, it was over in a matter of seconds and Regina pulled away. "It's now enchanted. It will enable you to rip out her heart. I believe you've seen it done before."

Hook curiously began opening and closing his hand, amazed that he didn't feel any different. "Yes," he replied.

"The enchantment will only allow you to rip out one heart, so make sure you do it right."

Crooking an eyebrow at her, Hook finally mustered the gall to ask his first question. "What could she have possibly done to warrant such brutality?"

Of course, she simply answered as he expected she would. "That's my business. Yours is to kill her, and bring her body back to me."

With a sigh, he said, "Easy enough. When will I set forth on this murderous journey?"

"Immediately. But you won't be going alone." She turned around with an overly dramatic amount of flare and walked across the open foyer room, pulling back a blanket over a reclining chair. "You remember Claude."

Hook shrugged, unimpressed. "Can't say that I do."

At that, the Queen looked at him incredulously, almost as if she were offended. "You killed him in the cell block."

He remembered who she was referring to, although he still didn't recognize the man's face. Instead, he just nodded. "Ah, yes. I didn't recognize him without my hook in his neck. Forgive me, but isn't he a bit of dead weight?"

"I banished my mother to a far-off land some time ago. You're going to need a portal to get to her." Striding back over to the wooden dresser and mirror at the other end of the room, she pulled out a large hat box. "The rules are simple: one goes in, one comes back. Or, in this case, two in, two back. You'll arrive with Claude, and you'll return with my mother."

"Now tell me… Which far-off land do I have the pleasure of visiting today?"

Extracting the hat with a smile on her face that once again made him feel slightly uncomfortable, she said, "Wonderland."

 _Wonderland… oh, joyous._ "Happily named, I'm sure. How will I find her?"

"Oh, don't worry. She'll find you," the Queen said darkly. Then, holding the hat in two hands, she twisted and let go, and the hat began to spin across the floor. Faster and faster it spun, until he could feel a breeze blowing in his face. And as the portal to this _Wonderland_ opened, Hook took one last moment to consider whether or not he was going to regret what he was about to get himself into.

* * *

Cora wasn't sure what to think when the guards offered her a scruffy, tall man dressed in black. What she knew immediately was that he did not hail from Wonderland, nor did he have any royal relations. A pirate, perhaps. But for him to have entered this world, he'd have had to come through the hat. And any kind of portal—well, they were in short supply across all lands in these days.

While on his knees before her curtained throne, the man said boldly, (perhaps _too_ boldly)

"I'm searching for someone. In her native land, she goes by 'Cora.'"

Her eyes widened beneath her mask. No one called her that here. _No one._

She stood on her feet, pulling her mask away from her face to fully gaze upon her visitor. "In _this_ land, she goes by 'Your Majesty,'" she declared, looking down upon him. Then, gesturing to her guards and servants, she ordered, "Leave us," so that she could speak to the man privately.

"Your name," she said, "Pirate."

He bowed respectfully. "Hook."

She cocked her head slightly. "Interesting nickname."

The man, Hook, gestured with his left arm, which had no hand attached to it. "Well, usually I would consider it more fitting." Then, pulling a pearl necklace out of his pocket, he continued, "I come bearing gifts, if you'll allow me."

Cora descended the steps of her throne and approached him slowly. "This hat—" she said. "Your portal. If I understand correctly, the same number who travels through must also return. You arrived with him." She gestured to the dead man lying not far away. "But who shall you return with?"

Cora was always prepared. Having been taught by a brilliant master years ago, she knew how to stay one step ahead of her enemies. Which why when Hook threw the necklace over his shoulder and plunged his hand through her chest, she barely flinched. When he came out with nothing, she laughed with delight at his confusion.

"I'm the Queen of Hearts," she said. "Do you really think I'd be so careless as to keep my heart where everyone else does? This!" She shot her hand out and thrust it into Hook's chest where his heart lay. Pulling him forward as he sagged and groaned in pain, she smiled at him. "Is how it's done." Then, dropping her pleasantries, she demanded, "Tell me—who did this? Who sent you here to kill me? _Who_?"

Hook grimaced, but then choked out, "Your daughter."

His words registered in her mind and she pulled back slightly. "Regina?" she whispered. "She—wants me dead?" A heavy sensation fell over her—a sensation she didn't need, didn't want, didn't have the time for. So instead, she focused on getting her information. "You're now going to tell me _everything_ , and do exactly what I want." She squeezed his heart still in his chest, causing him to grind his teeth from the pain. "Because when you hold a heart, you control it. You have the power."

She knew it was cruel to make him talk while her hand was stuck inside his chest, but she liked it that way. She didn't mind making him suffer for her enjoyment, taking out her anger over Regina's attempt on her life—and having control. Delicious control.

After he was finished spatting out an explanation for his actions, as well as Regina's plans to enact the dark curse and Hook's desire for revenge on Rumpelstiltskin, he said, "I've told you all I know. Now have some honor and kill me."

She laughed at the irony. " _Honor_? For the pirate who snuck into my palace to assassinate me?"

Hook lowered his voice and hissed, "At your daughter's behest."

Clenching her teeth, Cora said, "She should have come. She should have killed me _herself._ "

And then, enjoying one more second to feel his beating heart against her fingertips, she pulled back her hand and let him drop to the ground, heaving. While he took a moment to catch his breath, she returned to her throne and sat down. "Mercy seems—a bit out of character," Hook breathed, pulling himself to his feet.

She smiled. "Oh, not mercy, Hook. You're going to help me. Regina knows my methods better than anyone. If I was controlling you, she'd know. This has to be _your_ choice."

Hook placed a hand to his chest. "Why should I?"

"Because, my dear, I'm the only one who can give you what you want."

"Is that so?" Hook asked, not sounding convinced.

Cora leaned back slightly and raised her eyebrows. "This curse my daughter plans to enact—this new land she's taking everyone to? You won't remember who you are. So tell me, Captain: how do you expect to kill someone, when you can't even remember him?" Now she could tell she had his attention. So her smile returned. "But, if you do what I say, I'll make sure you not only kill him, but that you remember every. Single. Moment."

Caught in her trap like a fly in a spider's web, he asked, "Well, what shall you have me do?"

This was going to be the difficult part. But she learned years ago never to hesitate. Not even for love. "Get me close to my daughter," she said softly. "And then I'll rip her heart out."

To say the least, the plan went perfectly. With Hook's help, she could play dead just long enough to keep Regina from suspecting a thing. And then she'd do the unthinkable. Rip out her own daughter's heart and crush it into dust. After all, if her daughter could never love her—never need her—then perhaps it was for the best.

But even as a woman who had grown quite decisive in her old age, she grew conflicted when Regina directed Hook out of her vault and stood over the coffin.

"I'm sorry, mother," Regina whispered. "Without you, I never would've become the person I am now. But I had no choice. I had to do this." For the first time in years, Cora hesitated. She wanted to hear what her daughter had to say. "After you killed Daniel," Regina continued, her voice on the verge of breaking, "You told me something I've never forgotten. Love is weakness. Well, mother, you are my weakness, because… I love you. That's why I couldn't risk taking you to the new land with me. Your grip on my heart is just too strong. And for what I need to do… I can't have any weakness."

Now Cora understood. Regina loved her after all. So much, in fact, that she decided to have her killed to avoid any setbacks in her plan. And how could Cora blame her for that? How could she be anything but proud that, after all these years, her daughter had finally reached the point where she realized that she couldn't let anything stand in her way? She now understood the dangers of love as Cora always wanted.

And so, Cora kept her hands to her sides as her daughter rested a single rose atop her chest. "Goodbye, Mother," she whispered, slowly stepping away from the coffin and exiting the room.

A few seconds later, Hook reentered and approached her coffin. "What happened?" he asked, taking her hand to pull her up. "You didn't kill her."

"There's been a change in plans."

"And what would that be?"

Cora took the rose in between her fingers. "My daughter's curse is coming. We have to protect ourselves."

"How exactly are we going to do that?" Hook asked.

"I'll explain, elsewhere. First, we need to go, quickly." But as Hook proceeded to help Cora climb out of the coffin and onto the floor, there came a faint, unnatural sound from within the vault. Hook stole a glance at her, but she kept her eyes sharp, closely scanning the walls.

They weren't alone.

She let go of Hook's hand and stepped forward, preparing to enter the labyrinth of the vault looking for their eavesdropper if necessary. But instead, she simply said, "We know you're back there. Come out and show yourself."

Silence.

"You can't hide from me, whoever you are," she attempted, pulling her black cloak around her. She took another step forward, about to begin a search, but after a few seconds a young woman showed her face. In one hand she held a sword and a short chain with a tiny vial at the end of it. And in the other hand she held a hook, which looked like it may have belonged to her new acquaintance.

"I come in peace," she said softly. "Merely passing through."

"Merely passing through, no doubt," Hook sneered. "That, I believe, belongs to me." He sauntered forward, causing the woman to stiffen and hold her sword up toward him. "Hand it over, sweetheart," he said through his teeth.

Hesitantly, the woman held out the hook at arm's length. "My apologies. I thought I might need it."

Hook scoffed as he snatched it away and reattached it to his left wrist. "I don't take kindly to those who steal."

Cora smiled and approached the two of them. "Is this the woman who bested you in the tower, Hook?" she asked.

"More or less," he said begrudgingly.

What caught Cora's interest the most was the way the woman's eyes looked upon her, almost as if they'd met before, even though Cora was certain that was not the case. Glancing down at the vial in her hand, she asked, "What do you have there?"

Her eyes suddenly growing wider, the woman switched the vial into the opposite hand so that she could more firmly hold her sword. "That's not your business, is it, Cora?"

"My my," Cora said with a chuckle. "You know my name, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours. Let's see about that vial, shall we?" With the flick of her wrist, she manifested the vial into her own hand.

The woman seemed to explode into a panic, reaching for it recklessly. "Hey, that's not—"

"Now, now, no need for a fuss," Hook said, catching her from behind while she was distracted and holding his hook to her neck. She struggled against him, but didn't have enough leverage to escape his grip once he removed her sword from her hand.

In the meanwhile, Cora inspected the vial between her fingers, watching the green glow of the liquid inside. "Oh dear," she said gently. "Stealing magic. Not very ladylike at all. Or, was this yours? But then, it's not what you were looking for is it?" In a single motion, Cora manifested another vial in her hand, one that looked almost identical to the other.

The woman's eyes widened again. "How did you—"

"I saw it on Regina a bit ago," Cora said. "And I wondered, what use could my daughter possibly have for restorative magic? But then I realized when you were holding this—Regina must have created a fake one just in case. I'm assuming you must have realized—but you were too afraid to face Regina for the real vial, weren't you? Well, lucky you, I have some extra tricks up my sleeve."

"Does that mean you're going to give it back?" the woman asked, by now having stopped struggling to simply glare at her.

Cora tilted her head. "Well, I suppose I could. But then again—after what you did to Hook, and what you've seen… I'd say you owe us a debt."

"Why don't we just crush her heart?" Hook snarled.

"Thank you for the lovely commentary," the woman bit back, jerking at his arm in frustration. Then, glancing back to Cora, she asked, "What makes you think I'll be any use to you?"

"Well, this magic, of course," Cora laughed, holding up the real vial. "This is sap, isn't it? From the enchanted willow tree? I've read about it, but I heard that the tree was destroyed, long ago. But not its guardian." She smiled in satisfaction when she saw the woman's stricken facial expression, knowing her guess was right. "Hook, it appears we have a siren in our presence. This young lady is none other than the legendary Willow Maid."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Actually, I prefer to be called 'Willow.'"

Cora nodded. "Willow. Willow, it is. So, my dear. Tell me—all your magic is right here in this little vial, correct? Meaning that, unless you have it with you, you're powerless. My, it sounds terribly inconvenient."

"You have no idea," Willow said snidely.

"That means, I'm assuming you'd be willing to do whatever it takes to have it returned to you," Cora said. "So, I'll make you a deal. You do as I say, and when I see fit, I'll give this back to you."

"Doesn't sound like a very fair deal."

"It's the only one I'm offering," Cora replied.

Willow hesitated for several seconds. Cora could see the war in her eyes—she knew that Willow didn't see letting go of her magic as an option. After all, the sirens of the Enchanted forest were all bound by their very lives to the magic they were sworn to protect. If something were to happen to it, it would mean the end of her life. And predictably, most living beings had a powerful instinct to survive.

And as expected, Willow raised her head and looked straight into Cora's eyes with her defeated ones. "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Willow watched from the safety of Cora's protection spell as the Queen's curse devoured land and everything in its path, whisking it away to a land without magic—a land Willow had always desired to see for herself. But as the black smoke covered the skies and passed her by, she knew there was no getting there now.

Honestly, she still couldn't believe that Rumple created such a thing, let alone that the Queen was able to cast it.

"This is more impressive than I thought it would be," Willow said as the wind whipped through her dark hair. "Enjoying the view, Killian?"

Hook scowled. "I told you, we are _not_ on a first-name basis."

"But I like 'Killian better," Willow said. "Because it has 'kill' in it, which is exactly what I want to do to you."

Hook regarded her with a strange expression. "Fetching. I'm glad to know the feeling is mutual." Then, glancing at Cora, he asked, "Wouldn't it have been easier to reconcile with your daughter _before_ her curse destroys the land?"

Cora shook her head. "Regina doesn't need me—not now. Not when she thinks she's about to win. But I still have a place in her heart. And the curse won't last forever. It will end. In twenty-eight years, there'll be a savior. And she'll break it."

 _Twenty-eight years?_

"Twenty-eight years?" Hook echoed Willows thoughts.

With a smile, Cora said, "You won't even notice. You'll be frozen, like all those in this corner of the land." Willow looked away up at the sky, still letting it sink in, just how long she'd have to wait. "But, when the curse ends, our quest will resume. And, when it does, Regina will truly have lost everything, and then she'll need me. That's when we'll go to this new land. You'll get your revenge." She gestured to Willow. "You'll have your end of the bargain honored. And me, I'll… help Regina pick up the pieces."

It was in that moment that Willow realized Cora was officially out of her mind. Willow didn't know much about relationships between parents and their children, but didn't mothers usually _want_ their children to succeed in life? This woman actually wanted her daughter to fail, just so she'd need her again. It wasn't as if Willow cared for the Queen in the slightest. But for the first time, she truly felt a hint of sympathy for her.

She had a terrible mother.

It was funny. The next twenty-eight years were about to be completely ripped from her, and she was helpless to stop it. From one prison to another. The bright side was, before she knew it the curse would be broken and she could start planning. She didn't trust Cora to honor her end of the bargain, nor did she trust either of the people next to her to not ask the impossible of her. Even if Cora had a hold of her magic, allowing herself to be backed into a corner was not an option. She would not be manipulated.

But as the curse passed by them, Willow wasn't thinking about any of this. Instead, she closed her eyes and listened to the whistling of the wind and imagined herself singing and dancing underneath her willow tree. She imagined a time when she was free—perhaps not to leave her forest—but when she was free to be herself.

 _I'll be a free woman, yet._

* * *

 **Okay, so... in case it wasn't clear, Willow is The Willow Maid. She's loosely based off of the Willow Maid from Erutan's song, also titled, "The Willow Maid." If you haven't heard the song, I highly recommend it. It's lovely :) But yes, she's a siren, and we'll find out more about her past and what happened to her tree later, and why she so desperately needs the sap in her vial. Also, as you can tell she partially took Belle's place in this chapter, which of course you will also find out why later, lol. Kind of like the show does, I'm taking flashbacks out of order. Also, in case you happened to notice and it bothers you, I did intentionally skip the little "test" Regina gives Hook. Reason being is that they don't get into that at all in the show until season 5 and looking back, it doesn't seem like it makes sense chronologically. Gotta love that OUAT timeline, though XD**


	4. I Promise

**Hello friends, and welcome to Chapter 4 of Song of the Savior! This chapter was kinda hard to write, but I enjoyed it. We're back in the present here this chapter. I haven't decided yet if I want to do a flashback every other chapter or every two chapters. I might be better off doing every other chapter the more I think about it, but we'll see. If anyone who's reading this so far has a preference, feel free to let me know your thoughts and I'll take it into account. If not, I'll probably just decide sometime this week.**

 **In any case, thanks for your support thus far and leave a review if you have time! Hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

Chapter 4: I Promise

 **Two Days Ago**

"Magic is different here— _Dearie_ ," Gold said mockingly as he approached Regina in the sheriff's office. He would have been lying if he said he didn't enjoy seeing her vulnerable and defeated, trying futilely to conjure her magic within her jail cell. He might have smiled if only he wasn't already seething with rage. Watching her lose everything as a result of the curse breaking wasn't enough for him today. He would be first in line to get his vengeance.

Regina glanced up at him, stiffening in his presence as if she already knew why he was here—that he now realized exactly what she'd kept a secret from him for the last 28 years. Despite her meager attempts, she never had much talent for suppressing her emotions. "I noticed," she said in a stand-offish tone, in an effort to keep her composure. "I assume this is all your doing."

"Most things are," Gold said simply.

"Get to it, Rumple," Regina snapped. "What do you want? Then, raising her eyebrows, she asked, "You here to finish the job?"

Coming to a halt in front of her cell while leaning on his cane, he shook his head mildly. "No, no, no… you're safe from me."

"I feel so relieved," she said in mock surprise.

"But I did make a deal with someone. A deal that you'd suffer for what you did."

Regina's face showed mild interest. "Well, I've done a lot of things, so I suppose you'll have to be more specific."

This time, Gold smiled bitterly and fished into his pocket, pulling out a small vial with a single drop of magic inside it. It was faint, but its glow still pulsed under his fingertips. He held it up, just out of her reach. "Do you know what this is, Regina?"

"Can't say that I do."

Gold tilted his head. On another day, it might have been amusing to watch her cover up such blatant lies. He knew better than to believe her nonchalant claims, especially considering the way her eyes flickered when she saw the vial. "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm not in the mood for your games at the moment, Rumple. If you have something to say," she hissed, leaning close to the bars, "Then say it."

Gold's fingers tightened on the vial. If he was being entirely frank, he wasn't particularly in the mood for games either. Not this time. "Willow."

That was all he needed. He saw it all—the way her body tensed in reaction to her name. And even as she widened her gaze, continuing to feign surprise, he saw through all of it. She knew she'd been caught. "So, she's alive."

"You are a dreadful liar," he said through his teeth, stepping closer to the bars. "Where is she, Regina? Where is she?"

She shook her head. "I—I don't know—"

"You're _lying_ to me—"

"No! No, I'm not!" Her voice rose over his and he fell silent for a few seconds, even as his blood boiled under his skin. His usual perfectly composed demeanor was crumbling on him as he held her dark gaze. "I swear, Rumple, I don't know where she is. She disappeared before I cast the curse. All I can tell you is that she isn't in Storybrooke."

"She _disappeared_ ," he murmured. "How convenient."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"So, what? Too resourceful for you, Your Majesty? Did you really think you'd be able to use her against me?"

"I could have killed her," Regina pointed out. "But I didn't."

"No, you did much worse than that," Gold shot back. "You kept her alive so you could kill her when it suited you. A fate worse than death." Then, with a short, humorless chuckle, he said, "Which, incidentally, is exactly what I have in mind for you." Before she had a chance to ask any questions, Gold reached through the bars and snatched her wrist. Turning her hand up, he pressed the amulet in his other hand to her palm. Regina let out a gasp as the amulet seared her skin.

"Is that…?"

He smiled. "Yes, Dearie. The one thing no one can escape. _Destiny_. And I promise, yours is particularly unpleasant." Finally, he released his grip and she pulled her hand back, clenching it and unclenching it with fury in her eyes.

But all he could do was laugh at her expense.

* * *

 **Now**

Gold couldn't sleep.

This on its own didn't make it an abnormal night. He rarely bothered to sleep, since it wasn't a necessity for a Dark One. For once, there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to slip into blissful nothingness for a few hours. But if he tried to sleep, he knew he'd only be plagued by nightmares, as he had been each time he slept over the course of the last two centuries.

And so he spent his time down in his cellar, tampering with magic, searching for some way—any way—to create a memory potion strong enough to allow him to cross the town line. Unfortunately, although there was now magic in Storybrooke, ingredients were still in short supply. For the most part, he was entirely improvising—which wasn't exactly a method he preferred.

He'd already failed to get results multiple times. And the next time was no different, when he didn't get the reaction that he wanted from his solution. Except this time, he let out a frustrated sigh and threw and arm across his bench table, causing a few dozen flasks to shatter on the floor. But he stopped abruptly when he realized his mistake, reaching down to snatch a single vial out of the air before it hit the ground.

Immediately his anger simmered down and he leaned against the bench table, holding Willow's vial in his hands. He turned it between his fingers, watching the droplet of sap glisten under the lamp light.

He still couldn't decide if he was relieved, or if it simply complicated things further for him. He'd gotten Regina to cast the curse so that he could come to this land and search for his son. But now that he was here, he had to come upon the realization that, not only was his Willow still alive, she'd somehow escaped the curse and was either running around in the Enchanted Forest or some other land.

He lowered his head. _No_ , he corrected. _Not your Willow. You know better than that._

The fact remained that she was missing, just like his son. And while he was here in this land, trying to find a way to reach Bae, he felt helpless to do a thing for her. His only comfort was knowing she was alive as long as there was magic in this vial. And that she had the full capability of looking out for herself, he had no doubt.

"I'm going to find my son," he whispered, stroking the glass of the vial lightly with his thumb. "And after I do I'll come for you, wherever you are. You won't slip through my fingers this time. I promise." And one thing everyone knew about Rumpelstiltskin, was that he never broke his promises.

* * *

After taking the rest of the night to get a little bit of sleep, Emma and Mary Margaret and the others made the long trek back to the island haven. It was a particularly disheartening journey back, at least for Emma, since they went all that way for nothing. The wardrobe was lost and basically the only thing they could be happy about was the fact that they hadn't been eaten by ogres or torched by Regina's crazy bitch mom.

As they made their way through the brush not far from the base, Aurora murmured, "I don't know if I can do this. I'm not a very good liar."

"Oh, it's not really a lie, Aurora," Mary Margaret chimed in. "Lancelot did die an honorable death, and Cora did escape. All true."

Emma sighed. "Just leave the particulars to us. There's no reason to cause unnecessary panic amongst your people."

"I'm not so sure it's unnecessary—" Aurora began, only to be cut off when a familiar voice cut through the mid-morning air.

"Hey! Mulan—Mulan!"

It was then that Emma saw the dark haired, green-eyed girl running toward them at full speed. "Everyone—"

"Willow—what's wrong?" Mulan asked, catching Willow by the arms as she came to a startling halt in front of her. "What happened?"

Heaving and out of breath, Willow turned and glanced back toward the base. "We have a problem—" she said, her eyes wide and alert as if she'd seen something terrifying. Then, glancing at Emma, Mary Margaret, and Aurora, she added, "And I'm not sure your friends will be prepared for it."

"What are you talking about?" Emma asked.

Mulan's body was tense. "Willow, tell us."

There was a short pause, but then Willow pulled away from Mulan and gestured for them all to follow her. "You'll have to see for yourselves."

A knot formed in Emma's chest as she made her way into the base with her companions. But what she saw when she stepped past the noticeably empty guard tower into the base was more disturbing and gruesome than even she imagined. "Oh my god," she said, scanning the field, once filled with the survivors of the Dark Curse—now covered with their corpses. Lifeless bodies were strewn across the ground, blood splattered on many of their chests. Some of them were spread apart along the field, while others were clumped together in heaps, like ragdolls.

"This can't be," Mulan breathed, dumbstruck. "Our land—we were protected here. Hidden. How did the ogres find us?"

"They didn't," Willow said, her eyes shining with tears. "It was that woman. It was Cora."

"Their hearts," Mary Margaret said, analyzing the carnage. "They were ripped out. This is her magic, twisted and evil. We have to stop her."

"Too late," Mulan said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "She killed them. She killed them all."

"Well, we have to stop her before she hurts anyone else!" Mary Margaret said.

Emma thought she was about to be sick as she scanned the area, barely able to stand the sight of so much death in one place. But her adrenaline kicked in and she sprang into action when she saw the unthinkable—a live hand moving from a pile of bodies and debris just a few yards away. "Hey, hey! Look!" She pointed toward the source of movement and headed toward it, while the others did the same.

"There's someone under there," Aurora said, rushing over to help Emma and Mulan free the survivor from the wreckage. The dirtied, bruised young man whimpered as they pulled him to safety as gently as they could, and he glanced between them frantically as if he feared they might bring him harm. Although she could hardly blame him after what happened here. Anyone would be totally in shock.

"Please," he croaked as he struggled to sit up.

"It's okay," Mary Margaret said in an attempt to soothe him.

"Please… help me."

"It's okay," Mary Margaret repeated softly. "You're safe now. We won't hurt you."

In between quick, shallow breaths, the man nodded, seeming reassured by her gentle words. "Thank you… thank you."

But it was almost immediately after this that Emma's inner alarm system started going off. It occurred to her, based on what she'd managed to gather from Cora thus far, that someone who relied on timing and strategy wouldn't make a mistake like leaving a victim alive. She supposed it was possible, but something didn't add up. And it wasn't just because the guy they just dug out from under the rubble looked like every other piece of scum she'd ever met. Other than the fact that he only had one hand, which she noticed as they tried to move him. That was a first.

Nevertheless, she helped her companions get the stranger on his feet and over to a table where he could sit more comfortably. To her surprise, she was then ushered aside by Willow, who abruptly caught the man's jaw between her fingers and used her other hand to push open his eyes.

"Ow," he hissed, flinching away. "What are you doing?"

"Checking to make sure you aren't about to drop dead," she told him, placing two fingers against his neck to check his pulse. "You seem fairly healthy. Although… I suppose I could spare a little of this for you." Out of a little pouch beneath her jacket, she pulled a small tube of a clear salve, which she proceeded to dab on the man's face cuts and bruises.

"What is that stuff?" Emma asked out of curiosity.

"It's a concoction of several powerful healing herbs," Willow replied.

"She's been teaching the people here how to make different ailment remedies and potions," Mulan added. "It's one of her specialties."

"It stings," the man said.

But Willow simply glowered at him in response. "Bear it. It hurts now, but in a few hours, you will be as good as new."

Mary Margaret cleared her throat and set down her weapons. "While she's tending to him, Aurora, why don't you and I try to get a fire going over there?" she said, pointing to the pit past the maze of dead bodies. "Emma and Mulan, maybe you could go find him some water? I think there's a stream less than a quarter mile west over there."

Mulan nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. Emma?"

For some reason, Emma felt uneasy about leaving Mary Margaret and Aurora alone with Willow and the strange man for any length of time, but she reluctantly headed into the woods beside Mulan looking for water. The entire way she felt sick to her stomach as flashes of the corpses went through her mind. All those people—God, all those people.

And the intensity of the silence within the forest didn't exactly lift her spirits either. She could hear only the crunching of leaves and branches under her feet, the occasional rustling of breeze above them. She held her arms close to her and kept a brisk pace, trying her best to just focus on getting back quickly and start asking some questions. While Emma did not consider herself someone who got freaked out easily, she was pretty sure she was past her limit by now. How she'd managed to hold herself together through the last 72 hours—she had no idea.

After collecting some fresh water, Emma decided to make the walk back to camp easier on herself by asking Mulan a question or two. "You seen him before?"

"Yes, I've seen him around," Mulan said quietly. "He's a blacksmith. He came to our camp a couple months ago. Said he lost his hand in an ogre attack."

They came back upon the camp, where Willow was now assisting Mary Margaret with moving the dead out the way and building a fire. Aurora watched over the stranger, but he seemed either deep in thought or just too in shock to make any conversation. Then again, for all she knew he may have been contemplating his next lie.

Finally, Emma decided to speak her mind. "Why would Cora leave survivors? It's messy. It doesn't make sense."

"You think he's lying?"

"I think it's suspicious that he and Willow miraculously survived this attack. And I think Cora's tricked us before. I just don't want that to happen again."

Approaching the man with one hand, she set a cup of water down on the table for him and then handed another to Aurora. "Here you go." Then, turning her head, she asked, "Do you guys want any?"

"Oh no," Mary Margaret said, brushing off her hands as she made her way over. "I'm okay for now. Let them drink."

Emma's eyes flickered to Willow. "What about you?"

She shook her head. "No. Thank you."

Then, Emma reached into her pocket, suddenly remembering the ogre whistle that she still had handy. "Oh. Here. I wanted to give this back. It was a big help."

Willow smiled through the look of distress on her face, and took back the whistle. "I knew it would be." Emma watched through narrow eyes, waiting for some kind of sign as Willow shoved it back into the pouch at her side. A sign that her intentions were less than noble, or even a flicker of disconnection from all these deaths. But she ended up with nothing.

"I can't thank you enough for your kindness," the man said in a shaky tone before taking a sip of his water. "Fortune, it seems, has seen fit to show me favor."

 _Yeah, we'll just call it luck._

"An island full of corpses." She glanced between him and Willow. "You're the only ones to escape. How exactly did that happen?"

Willow's forehead creased and she looked down at the man with an unsure, perhaps even confused expression. So he went first, face contorting as he recalled the event: "She attacked at night – slaughtered everyone in one fell swoop. When she started ripping out people's hearts, I hid under the bodies of those who had already been killed. Pretended to be dead myself. Mercifully, the ruse worked."

And yet—it didn't feel real.

"So much for fortune favoring the brave," Emma said.

"It was all I could do to survive," the man breathed.

This time, Emma lowered herself to his level by leaning her elbows on the table across from him and murmured, "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me."

"I'm telling you the truth," he said. But for some reason, she still wasn't convinced his eyes were telling the same story. He was full of crap. And he could tell she knew.

"You think this pathetic little bunny rabbit is conspiring with the enemy?" Willow cut in, raising a brow. But when Emma met her gaze, there was no humor there. By the sluggish way she moved, it was clear that she was upset about the recent events and the deaths of all these people. She didn't get the same vibe from her that she got from the man. Was there a possibility that the survival of both of them was a coincidence?

"None of this adds up," Emma said. "I'm just trying to get to the bottom of it."

"I think, at the very least, another explanation is in order," Mary Margaret said, her voice more patient and composed than Emma's by this point. "How exactly did you survive, Willow?"

"I went down to the ocean to collect sea water and—build a sandcastle. I heard the screaming, but by the time I returned, everyone was already dead." Her voice broke slightly at the end.

There was a pause. Emma folded her arms. Was she being serious? "Building a sandcastle. In the middle of the night?"

"My shifts were finished and I don't sleep very much. Is it a crime to ask for a bit of alone time at night?" Emma was accustomed to watching people get defensive while trying to hide a lie. But that wasn't the vibe she was getting this time. Willow was genuinely insulted that her credibility had been questioned.

After a moment, Mulan spoke up. "I think she's telling the truth. She goes down to the water almost every night for her own enjoyment. But she always brings back sea water for the salt. She's been with us a long time and even saved my life once. We can trust her."

"But Cora masqueraded as Lancelot," Aurora pointed out. "Who's to say she couldn't impersonate Willow just as easily?"

There was another pause, but this time Willow simply shrugged and turned away. "In times like these, it's nearly impossible to completely trust anyone. Unfortunately, I can't give you any more than my word, so I won't waste my time." Then, turning toward Emma with a sad smile, she said, "Speaking of wasting time—the longer we spend arguing about who our true allies are, the less time we have to spend finding a way to stop Cora before she causes even more damage. And I, for one, have seen enough corpses for one day."

This girl was really starting to get on Emma's nerves. It was so easy with most people. She got a read on the guy next to her that had her on to his lies almost immediately. But with Willow—she couldn't get anything. It seemed like she was telling the truth and yet—there was still something off about her that she couldn't place.

But Mulan replied before she had the chance to get another word in. "We're agreed there. We should leave here in case Cora decides to come back."

Mary Margaret nodded. "We should start searching for a new portal back to Storybrooke. I only got about five minutes with my husband, not to mention my grandson."

At that, the man's lip turned up slightly. "You have a grandson?"

With a sigh, Mary Margaret said, "Long story."

"Well, I know this land well," the man said, "I can guide you—"

Emma stopped him by grabbing his short dark hair and pressing her knife to his throat. There was no way she was allowing this guy stick around long enough to put her companions in danger. "You aren't guiding us _anywhere_ until you tell us who you really are. Willow may be in the clear for now, but you've still got a lot of explaining to do, Buster."

* * *

Cora should have let Willow do this alone. She knew from the start that Killian was never going to slip by them, in spite of all his self-proclaimed charisma. The only reason Cora wanted the pirate involved in this plan to begin with was because she didn't trust Willow. Which, admittedly, wasn't unreasonable. Sirens had a natural talent for deception and misdirection. As a result, Willow knew gaining the trust of Mulan, Aurora, Snow White, and Emma would primarily be her job.

Her main gripe here was the fact that it was essentially by the skin of her teeth that Killian getting caught wasn't an automatic loss for her. That was the reason she was so insistent that she and Killian show no evidence of relation to one another after being found. Then, at least, if Killian couldn't get their trust, Willow would still have a chance.

However, she could already tell that winning over Emma would be an extra challenge.

She played her part perfectly, helping to tie Killian up against a tree even as he struggled and complained like a child. It was rather satisfying, getting to treat him like a prisoner and watch him attempt in vain to save himself. While it wasn't quite the revenge she hoped to exact later, it was a decent appetizer.

"I already told you, I'm just a blacksmith!" he cried pathetically as Willow bit her tongue to hold back a laugh.

"Sure you are," Emma said. Then, to Willow's own surprise, she lifted her fingers to her lips and whistled. The echo of a roar erupted in the distance, signaling the presence of ogres not far away. "You don't want to talk to us? Maybe you'll talk to the ogres while they rip you limb from limb."

The ground shook as the ogres drew near. "Come on," Emma said, starting away at a quickened pace.

Somewhat like Emma, Willow had a certain way about people and knew where to look for malicious intent. Upon first glance at Emma, Willow saw someone guarded and strong-willed, but also someone with a pure heart. Someone kind, with integrity and a strong sense of right and wrong. She hadn't expected this woman would even consider inflicting such a cruel fate on anyone, even an enemy.

But she had to admit, it was intriguing.

She picked herself up and followed behind the troop, despite some brief hesitation. Would Killian give in and tell the truth? While she couldn't say she was particularly bothered by the prospect of letting Killian get torn to pieces by ogres, she also wasn't sure how Cora would react if she found out Willow let that happen. But she didn't want to risk losing what little trust she had from the others just yet. Then again, would it even matter? If she left him, was there the possibility he would call her out along with him?

"You—you can't just leave me here like this!" Killian shouted, pulling against the ropes.

"What if he's telling the truth?" Aurora asked.

Emma held her ground. "He's not."

Another growl came from the trees. _Come on, Killian, make up your mind._

Willow glanced back hesitantly and locked eyes with him, raising an eyebrow. She saw him clench his teeth, and then with a frustrated groan he shouted, "Good for you! You bested me." Emma and the others stopped. "I can count the amount of people who've done that on one hand."

 _Yes, you truly have no equal, Captain._

The group made their way back toward the tree. "Is that supposed to be funny?" Emma asked. "Who are you?"

"Killian Jones," he said. "But most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker—Hook."

"Hook," Snow White repeated.

"Check my satchel," Killian told her.

While Snow White fished through Killian's satchel, Emma eyed him unimpressed. "As in—Captain Hook?"

He smiled with satisfaction. "So you've heard of me."

 _Please don't encourage him…_

Snow White then pulled his hand-sized silver hook out of his bag, just in time for the ground to shake once again.

"So you're working with her?" Willow hissed through her teeth. "You let all those people die?"

"You better hurry up," Emma said. "They're getting closer. So, unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking."

Killian lowered his gaze and smiled despite his obvious irritation. "Cora wanted me to gain your trust, so I could learn everything there is to know about your Storybrooke. She didn't want any surprises when she finally got over there."

"She can't get there. We destroyed the wardrobe," Snow White said.

"Ah, but the enchantment remains. Cora gathered the ashes. She's going to use them to open up a portal." Then, pulling on his ropes again, he said, "Now, if you'll kindly cut me loose—"

"No," Mulan said. "We should leave him here to die. To pay for all the lives that he took."

Willow bit her lip. As much as she liked that plan…

"That was Cora, not me," Killian said.

After a short pause, Emma murmured, "Let's go."

They all started away, again, and at that moment it occurred to Willow that she was going to need to come up with something quickly in order to convince them to spare him. Because apparently he couldn't manage it by himself! The fool…

But Killian evidently wasn't entirely out of ideas just yet. "Wait. Wait!" he called, almost desperately. "You need me alive."

"Why?" Emma asked, her tone revealing that her patience was waning.

"Because we both want the same thing—to get back to your land."

Emma approached him again. "You would say anything to save yourself. Why are we supposed to believe you now?"

"I arranged for transport with Cora," he said. "But, seeing how resourceful you are, I'll offer you the same deal. I'll help you, if you promise to take me along."

"How are _you_ going to help us get home?" Snow White asked, still disbelieving.

Killian lowered his voice to explain as the roaring of the ogres continued. Gods, if they stayed here much longer he wasn't going to be the only one stuck in their teeth tonight. "The ashes will open a portal, but, to find your land, she needs more. There's an enchanted compass. Cora seeks it. I'll help you obtain it before she does."

"So, Cora won't make it to Storybrooke, and we'll be one step closer to getting home," Emma said.

"Sounds too good to be true," Snow White said.

"There's only one way to find out," Killian replied.

"We don't have to trust him," Willow added, glancing at Snow White. "But at the moment, it seems like he's the best chance we have."

Emma seemed to hesitate at first, but then, stepping close to him with a dagger in her hand, she said, "You tell me one thing, and whatever you say, I better believe it. Why does Captain Hook want to go to Storybrooke?"

With that question, Killian's eyes grew serious, his jaw set with bitterness and determination. Then, without missing a single beat, he confessed, "To exact revenge on the man who took my hand… Rumpelstiltskin."

And it wasn't only Willow who felt chills run down her spine when Killian spoke his name. Emma and Snow White knew him—which meant he was safe in Storybrooke after all. And yet, in spite of her brief moment of relief, her uneasiness subsequently became greater than ever. He was the part of this mission that frightened her the most. If there was one person in this world or any world that Willow would never allow to die for her, it was Rumpelstiltskin.

 _Don't worry, Dearie. After I make it to Storybrooke, I'm going to fix this. I promise._

* * *

 **Okay, so yeah. I had a hard time at first, but once I really got into the chapter it was fun. I enjoyed writing Willow's lines and her perspective. Now that we're getting into the story, I feel like it's time to start fleshing her out more and take away at least a little bit of the mystery. I think, even now, it's kind of hard to get a feel for the kind of person she really is because she's basically pretending to be someone she's not. But still, I think there's a little bit here and there to give you at least some of an idea. XD**


	5. Yellow Lilies and Serenades

**Hey, guys... once again, I'm back a little earlier than expected. I was going to save this for later in the week, but last night I just got writing and by later today I had another chapter written. And so, I present to you, "Yellow Lilies and Serenades." While this is technically my shortest chapter so far, I think it might be my favorite, just because it was fun to write. It is, in fact, a flashback chapter, so yes, I believe I will be alternating between the present and the past one chapter at a time. It just seemed easier this way, and more effective for getting in all the material. So, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Thank you for the reviews and the follows! I always look forward to hearing what people think when they read my stuff.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time.**

Chapter 5: Yellow Lilies and Serenades

 **Many Years Ago**

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Stefan asked his brother as they rode on their horses along the forest path. He was still new to riding, and the young horse kept shaking her head, indicating she wasn't a fan of the reigns.

The brother, Rodrick, however, was in complete control. "After all these years, you still doubt me, brother?" Rodrick replied with a smile. "Don't you worry. We'll ask nicely and if she doesn't comply—we'll do what we have to do."

Stefan gripped the reigns of his horse, fear racing through him as he thought of the tales the villagers relayed to him when he was still a child. He wasn't convinced that this quest would be as easy as Rodrick seemed to believe. "The stories have told that she rips out the hearts of those bold enough to venture into her corner of the forest. What if she does the same to us?" He knew he sounded like a coward, but it was hardly his fault. He couldn't dictate his own fears.

"Well, that's why we came prepared," Rodrick said with confidence, patting the sword at his side. "Stefan, are you with me on this or not? The willow tree is said to have magic properties that will save mother and grandfather. If you have room for hesitation, perhaps you should turn back."

"No!" Stefan snapped, riding ahead in his frustration. In spite of his concerns, he couldn't think of abandoning his family. "I'm not turning back. Not with their lives on the line."

Rodrick flicked his reigns to catch up and then gave his brother a pointed look. "Then prove yourself by growing a little backbone." After a few seconds, he smiled a little more gently and said, "If anything happens, I promise I'll keep you safe, all right? There's no need for you to worry."

Stefan felt a wave of guilt wash over him that his older brother had to offer to protect him when he was already 17 years old. But the poor boy could hardly help it, being as naturally timid as he was.

It was autumn. Red and orange leaves covered the forest floor, and their scent filled the crisp evening air. The sun shone dimly through the tree branches above them, warming the chilled ground here and there. But it wasn't enough to stop the inevitable approach toward winter—the three month-long silent slumber of the Enchanted Forest. When no sound could be heard, not the sound of a chirping bird, or that of a footstep in the newly fallen snow.

This changed, however, when the two brothers slowed their horses and entered a small grove. It was here that the quiet autumn turned into a new season, buzzing with life, filled with familiar sounds and smells. The trees were just blooming here, with tiny pink buds bursting open and brightening the forest with color. Petals floated along with the cool breeze, while the honey bees and the gold finches whizzed by the brothers' heads, as if too busy to bother to say hello.

In this part of the forest, spring had already sprung.

"It's just like the stories say," Stefan murmured, hopping off his horse next to his brother to follow him through the grove and past all the brush. Along the way, he caught a glimpse of a few hummingbirds and a rabbit or two, and he was amazed by the variety of life surrounding him—clearly more so than his brother, whose only focus was his mission.

After walking for a few minutes, they came upon an impressively large tree with tiny jade leaves that trickled down like tendrils of hair. It was a willow tree, that seemed almost out of place among so many ordinary trees, and yet at the same time right within its element.

"No one is here," Stefan said quietly, glancing around them curiously.

Rodrick nodded. "Well, then let's extract the sap before we draw any unwanted attention." He made a bold move toward the tree, but then stopped abruptly in his tracks when, from behind the trunk of the great willow, stepped a woman with long dark hair and deep green eyes.

"Hello," she said softly, her bare feet silent as she stepped toward them. She was slender and petite, with a long white dress covering her body. Stefan had never in his life seen a woman so striking despite her simple tresses and attire. She seemed so innocent, even though his more logical side warned him of the danger. And her voice—oh, Gods, her voice was softer and more delicate than a whistle carried along the wind across the sea.

"What can I do for you two gentlemen?" she asked, continuing to approach them without hesitation.

But Rodrick was prepared, and he immediately pulled out his sword, stopping the woman in her tracks by holding the blade up toward her face. "Stop," he ordered, taking a defensive stance. "Tell me who you are."

She smiled, her green eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, surely you've heard of me." Placing a finger out to touch the tip of Rodrick's blade, she said, "I'm—whoever you want me to be."

Rodrick's eyes narrowed. "So you're the famous Willow Maid. You're the one who killed all those men." Then, he lowered his sword and said, "Please. We need your magic to save our family. I understand your desire to protect this place, but I assure you our intentions are pure."

The Willow Maid tilted her head. "Your intentions are pure? Well, in that case, you can have as much sap as you like. That is, if you can get past me." Stefan watched as, with a wave of her hand, the Willow Maid transformed into a different woman. A taller woman with dark skin and creamy brown eyes. And she was a woman he knew.

"Amelia?" Rodrick whispered, his mouth hanging open. His sword fell out of his hand into the grass as the woman approached him. His shock had rendered him frozen on the spot—he'd fallen into her trap before even realizing it.

With a gentle smile, she touched his shoulder and replied in a new voice, "Yes… Rodrick, it's me." It held a tenderness and soft longing that would have made any man weak in the knees.

Stefan's heart began to race as he stared at Rodrick, apparently bewitched by his former lover. But he didn't know what to do to stop it. Should he intervene? "Rodrick," he said in an attempt to get his attention.

But he was ignored. The woman didn't answer him and Rodrick seemed to have forgotten his existence entirely. "Rodrick," the woman whispered, moving closer to him still and placing a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin gently. "I love you so much… please… will you stay here with me?"

Stefan took a step forward, still unsure how to handle this situation—bewitched himself, but in a different sense. He couldn't think clearly with his mind in a haze, as the panic set in. "Rodrick, it's not her, please—"

But the spellbound young man reached out to gather the woman into his arms, his eyes filled with longing and near starvation of affection, and he murmured, "Yes, I will," before leaning in to kiss her. In that instant, before their lips ever met, Stefan flinched as the woman pushed her hand through his brother's chest. Then, as she pulled away, his still beating heart rested in her hand. Stefan felt sick to his stomach as he listened to his brother groan from pain while the woman squeezed the beating heart. And all he could do was watch in horror as she crushed it between her fingers until it crumbled to dust.

Stefan cried out as Rodrick collapsed like a doll onto the earth, never to rise again. And as the woman's glamour faded and she once again appeared to him as the Willow Maid, he grabbed his brother's sword through his bitter tears and held it up toward her, trembling from both terror and crushing sorrow. " _Why?_ You monster!" he snarled, gripping the sword with two hands.

She didn't flinch, however, and simply began toward him. Even with the sword in front of him, Stefan couldn't bring himself to use it and continued stepping back until he hit one of the trees behind him. "Why?" the Willow Maid asked, casually pushing his sword to the side and moving in close to cup his face in her hands. "Because he didn't pass the test."

"We just wanted the magic to help our family," he blubbered, hot tears running down his face. "Please… please…"

"Oh, I know, sweetie," the Willow Maid said, almost like a mother trying to reassure her child. "But the problem with that is, nothing ever comes without a price. That includes magic. And unfortunately for you, you'd never be able to handle it." Her piercing green eyes gazed into his, but he didn't have the words to explain what he saw in them. A forest filled with color, a lifetime of wisdom—his own life, fading away in their reflection. "Dry those tears," she said, patting his chest. "I'm doing you and your family a favor." Stefan gasped from the stab of pain inside him as she pulled his heart from his chest, and crushed it into dust as she had his brother's. The world around him ceased to exist before his body hit the ground.

And after brushing off her hands and ridding herself of the unpleasantness of their corpses, she headed out into the grove to send their horses home.

* * *

Over the years, people grew to fear the title of the maid who lived in the grove where it was always spring. It became increasingly rare that anyone would dare enter her domain, for no one was powerful enough to resist the allure of her enchantments. She didn't mind it, however, as she was content to share her forest with only the animals and the birds. To pass the time she would dance and sing or make carvings out of wood that the animals brought her. She'd lived so long without human company that she hardly missed it.

Humans—weak beings, they were. So easily corrupted by power and the seduction of magic. Those who walked down that path rarely returned. Perhaps one day they would learn their lesson. Or if nothing else, from the grave mistakes of others.

The Willow Maid's best friend was a hummingbird. A hummingbird she called Buzz. Each day she would feed him sap from the willow tree and he would stay nearby, no matter what she was doing.

"Buzz, I've no _idea_ where I'd be without you," she said one day, poking the end of his long nose with her forefinger. Not that he could understand what she was saying. But he was loyal to her all the same.

"I think," she continued, hopping down from one of the willow branches doing a pirouette. "I have finally become an expert with every single dance move I can think of thanks to you." She laughed as he buzzed around her head a few times. "I wonder what's in style out there in the world, now. It would be interesting to see how things have changed." And then, as she tip-toed along a light ballet dance, she began to sing her song of joy. Her magic filled the grove, bringing brand new life to the trees—to the animals, and even her own spirit. She could feel the sun through the light patches in between the leaves, and she closed her eyes and imagined she had music to go along with her song.

Little did she know that not far away, a well-built, dark-haired young man walked through the forest. At his left, he carried a sheathed sword, while at his right he carried a quiver and hunting bow. He often passed through this way in his hunting travels, but never before had he heard the singing of the Willow Maid while on the path. The sound, more beautiful than anything he'd ever heard, made him stop in his tracks. And he began to follow the beautiful voice into the spring grove.

The animals grew restless as soon as they sensed the new presence within the grove, and immediately the Willow Maid stopped singing. Silence fell as the birds and animals hid and she spun around to face the hunter, who held spellbound eyes upon her.

Then, suddenly seeming to remember his manners, he bowed as a typical gentleman would do and said, "Pardon my intrusion. I didn't mean to disturb you."

The Willow Maid gazed at him curiously. "And what can I do for you, sir?"

To her surprise, when she asked he seemed a little bit flustered. "Oh, I—well, nothing. I just… I came out of curiosity, you see. I heard the most beautiful voice and I… I just had to know who it belonged to."

"Well, you've found me," she said with a dry smile. "Are you absolutely certain there's nothing else you want?"

The man made no move to reach for either of his weapons, but instead watched her, apparently not sure what to say. After a few seconds, he finally said, "You're—the Willow Maid, aren't you?"

She pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear and replied, "Correction—I'm whoever you want me to be." Then, after a few steps forward and another pause, she said, "But there's no one you want, is there?"

He hesitated. "I—no. I'm afraid love is something I know little of."

The Willow Maid smiled again. "Fortunately for you, I think love is something most people know little of."

"And you?" he asked, catching her by surprise again.

"I know nothing of it."

This time, it was the hunter who smiled. "What a shame. I'd think someone who sings as beautifully as you would know all about it."

She shrugged one shoulder. "You don't have to know much about something to sing it."

"I suppose you're right," he said. Then, stepping forward and causing her to tense slightly, he asked, "Would you sing for me?"

"Aren't you worried I might kill you?"

At that, he appeared taken aback. "Ah—I'm sorry—I thought you only took the lives of those who sought your magic."

That was true. Unless he threatened bring harm to her or take sap from the tree, she had no reason to kill him. But the fact that he looked at her with so little fear in his eyes, despite knowing what she was capable of—it made her uncomfortable.

Finally, she laughed. "So—you—want _me_ to sing for you? Is that it? Why should I?"

"Because I think it's unfortunate for a woman to have such a lovely voice if no one is there to listen."

To that, she had no clever retort. But there was still no way she was about to sing, just because some strange man asked her to. "I will if you do something for me in return," she offered.

"And what's that?" he asked.

She grinned and sat down cross-legged in the grass. "I want a lily. A yellow one."

His eyes widened slightly. "A yellow lily? But—those don't grow anywhere near here. I'd have to travel miles—"

"Those are my terms," she said firmly. "If you want a song, find a yellow lily and bring it back to me. If not, I'll never sing for you."

The hunter's expression seemed to fall slightly, but nevertheless he granted her a nod and straightened his stance. "Very well, then," he said, before turning and taking his leave from the grove. The Willow Maid let out a sigh and lay back in the grass as some of the animals began to emerge from the bushes and behind the trees.

 _I'm never going to see him again._

But how wrong she was. For the next day, while she was lazing about on a tree branch, the hunter returned. Of course she made sure to keep a keen watch when she felt a presence enter the grove, but when she saw his familiar face, she could hardly believe it. "You must be joking," she muttered under her breath, and briefly considered just killing him to get him out of the way, until he called her.

"Willow Maid, are you here?"

"I'm here," she said dryly, dropping out of the willow and surprising him. "Why did you come back?"

He smiled triumphantly and pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a slightly faded yellow flower with long petals and a healthy green stem. It was the most beautiful lily she'd ever seen. Or at least, she could tell that it had been once in its prime. "I got you the yellow lily you asked for," the hunter said, holding it out toward her.

Hesitantly, the Willow Maid reached out and took the bloom, her fingers briefly brushing against his rough and calloused hand. "I truly can't believe you actually travelled the distance to find this," she admitted.

"Well, we did make a deal," he said. "And now I believe you owe me a song."

Even though the Willow Maid knew the terms of their agreement, she couldn't help feeling defeated in a way, since she hadn't set her bets on this man wanting to hear her voice enough to travel across the land for it. And yet, here he was, having fulfilled his end of the bargain. Now she had no choice but to follow through with hers.

"All right, then—you win," she muttered under her breath, before turning her back and kneeling down underneath the willow tree. She tried to ignore the feeling of the hunter's eyes on her while she dug a small hole in the earth with her hand and wrapped a few layers of soil around the stem of the yellow lily. After a few seconds, the stem grew and the color that was lost from aging seeped back into the flower. Now, it would live forever under her tree.

She sighed and turned back toward the hunter, ready to sing for her new and unexpected audience. "All right, sir. What would you like me to sing? I can make you laugh, I can make you cry, I can make you dream, I can make you die—"

The hunter gave her a startled look and she laughed. "But obviously, you won't choose the last one. Sorry, that was just a little rhyme I made up on my own."

"I see," he said awkwardly. "Well—it is quite creative."

"Thank you," she replied, intentionally keeping her tone nonchalant. "So, what will it be? Feel free to sit if you'd like."

The hunter did as she suggested and then scratched his head in a way she couldn't help finding a little bit endearing. "Well," he said, crossing his legs and leaning forward. "I suppose—make me laugh."

She took a quick few seconds to consider the song she wanted to sing and then nodded. "As you like." And she began. Songs that had the power to make people laugh were always light-hearted, and of course she could hardly avoid bursting into dance within the first 30 seconds, letting the music in her heart lead the way. And despite the presence of the hunter, the birds and the animals began emerging from the trees and bushes to listen along with him. As expected, he laughed repeatedly throughout the song, although the Willow Maid was careful to keep the intensity to a minimum so that he didn't start laughing uncontrollably. Although she probably would have found it amusing, he likely wouldn't appreciate her making his sides burn.

And so she danced until the end of the song, surprised by how easily she was able to get immersed in the music with someone watching her. It was not a new experience, singing in front of an audience, but it was not something she'd done in many, many years.

When she was finished, the hunter clapped for her in the midst of his laughter. "That—that was wonderful. No—that doesn't describe it. Oh, I'm not sure there's any word that can."

"Well, that is kind of you to say," the Willow Maid said, folding her hands behind her.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked.

"I've danced my entire life," she replied simply.

He smiled and then stood on his feet, moving forward and catching her hands before she could step out of reach. "Listen—" he said, "If I—if I bring you another flower two days from now, will you sing for me again?"

She blinked. For a few seconds, she searched his eyes for some evidence that he was joking, but she found none. "You—is it that important to you?"

"Well, it's—a bit lonely at home where I live," he admitted. "But hearing you sing—I don't know. I just want to come back. So if I bring you another lily, will you sing for me again?"

She could have refused. In fact, the more reasonable side of her wanted to. What right did this man have for coming into her domain and demanding performances? He should have been terrified of her, running for the hills at the very mention of her name. But instead, he was here, asking her if could come back.

"Yes."

His eyes lit up and he squeezed her hands, causing her to jump slightly in surprise before he let her go. "I should be going," he said, turning away. "But thank you for the song. I'll be back in two days."

At first, the Willow Maid was just planning to let him leave without a word, but before she could stop herself, she called, "Wait."

He stopped and glanced back. "You never told me your name," she said.

With a short laugh, he said, "Oh, right. I'm Aiden." And with that, he disappeared from the grove, leaving the Willow Maid alone with Buzz perched on her shoulder. And for a brief, sparkling moment, she even dared to hope that Aiden might return in two days.

* * *

 **So, on one hand I feel kinda bad for this. I mean, Willow was NOT very nice, lol. I will say that her actions are mainly just to protect her tree, which is obvious considering she makes no attempt to harm Aiden since he wasn't after the magic. But still, even though I kind of just thought up Stefan and Rodrick out of thin air, I felt soooo sorry for them by the time I was finished writing those pages. And kinda hated Willow a little, as well, lol. But I assure you, she's not all bad. Like all the villains of OUAT she has feelings and her own set of demons. And honestly, her problems at this point in her story are small in comparison to what she gets into later. I think you'll find soon enough that she's actually quite complex.**

 **By the way, in case anyone out there happens to pick up on it, I took a tiny bit of inspiration for Willow's singing powers from a book I read in Middle School, called "Song Quest" by Katherine Roberts. While I don't remember the novel itself too well, I remember that there were several different songs sung by the characters for different purposes. There was a song that could make you dream, a song that could make you laugh, one that could make you cry, one that could make you scream, and then one that could kill you. And so I decided to use that concept a little bit for Willow, since I think as a siren it would make sense for her to be able to influence emotions and behavior through her singing.**


	6. Realist

**Hello, Dearies! Welcome back to Song of the Savior! Here we have Chapter 6, named "Realist." And it was pretty fun to write. :) Originally, this was going to take longer because I was going to write the entirety of "Tallahassee" for the chapter, but then I realized it would probably end up being too long. So I'll have the rest ready for next time! Or the time after. I may write a flashback, first. We'll see how I feel, lol. Anywho...**

 **leongvivian70: Thank you! I'm also looking forward to getting into the story between Rumple and Willow more. I have a feeling they won't be reuniting for a little while yet, but they may be showing up together in flashbacks fairly soon ;)**

 **Fairytailfanatic247: Thanks for the review! Yes, I also can't wait. It should be a lot of fun to get into their past.**

 **FutureOlympian: Thank you so much. Your review really made my day :) And I'm so glad you like Willow. I hope you enjoy her in this chapter as well. Personally, I really had fun writing her lines in this chapter. And don't worry, we'll also be seeing more of Willow with Aiden soon enough. You'll just have to wait and see what happens between them!**

 **Thanks everyone, for reviewing and favoriting and following and all of the "ings" as Peanutbuttergamer would say it. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on the current chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time.**

Chapter 6: Realist

Hook had dug himself a hole. He found it was what he did best, on most occasions. His philosophy, however, was that he would manage to get himself into just as much trouble if he were an honest man. And with that in mind, he saw no point in taking the path of the righteous to get what he wanted. He didn't have any time for being the good guy, anyway. And he didn't particularly care, two hundred years after losing the only thing that truly mattered to him.

The issue was that things hadn't exactly gone according to plan over the last few hours, and once Cora found out he and Willow were leading the enemy toward their way back to Storybrooke, she would be furious. And Hook couldn't say he relished the thought of that woman's anger.

Willow, on the other hand, didn't look troubled at all as she marched alongside the wench with the bow, humming to herself like the child she was while he was dragged behind them like a dog. He briefly imagined himself cutting out her tongue with his hook—perhaps it would teach her some humility. He wondered how it was possible for her to act so smooth and confident when, for all intents and purposes, _she_ was a prisoner.

 _Pathetic bunny rabbit… tch… Believe me, fairy princess. After I skin my crocodile, you're next._

Of course, before he could skin his crocodile, he had to make sure he actually got to Storybrooke alive and in one piece.

Finally, the group came along a towering beanstalk that shot far up into the clouds, where Hook knew they would have to venture to retrieve the artifact they needed. He couldn't say he was particularly looking forward to the climb. He considered himself a man with a decent amount of stamina, but this would certainly be a test for him.

"It's a little freakier than I remember from the story," the Swan murmured, squinting her eyes from the sun as she gazed up.

"It reminds me of death," Mulan added.

Snow White then commented, "Encouraging," in a plain tone.

Hook figured there wasn't much point in stalling the inevitable, so he gestured toward the behemoth-like mutated plant. "Well—the compass awaits. Shall we?"

He made his way forward, hands still bound, not listening to whether or not his new companions were following him. But the Swan's voice caught his attention. "Wait—if these beans create—portals—why not just pick one and go home? Why the compass?"

"Why do you think everyone is so competitive to get a portal?" Willow cut in, stretching her leg by pulling it back behind her at an angle that hurt Hook's retinas. "There are no beans. There haven't been for centuries. Everyone knows that."

"Well, what do I know?" the Swan scoffed. "I didn't grow up in this place. All I heard was that there was—a guy named Jack and some cow, and something about evil giants with a treasure and a golden goose. Or harp."

Hook turned toward her with a smile, finding her ignorance ridiculously adorable for some reason despite her harsh tongue and no-nonsense demeanor. She was quite different from other women he'd been acquainted with in the past. "Sounds like a lovely tale," he said. "But the truth is a little bit more gruesome. The giants grew the beans, but rather than use them for good, they used them to plunder all the lands. 'Jack' was a man who fought a terrible war, defeating all but one of the evil giants. The beans were destroyed by the giants as they died. If they couldn't have their magic, then nobody could. It's really very bad form."

"Sounds to me like something a lot of corrupt royal scoundrels made up so the rest of mankind's children would feel warm and fuzzy going to sleep at night," Willow murmured.

Hook sighed. Insufferable girl. "Excuse me, did I leave something out that you'd like to share?" he asked with mock politeness.

But Willow simply shrugged in response. "I only mean that to assume any war would play out in such a black and white fashion is folly at best. Typical human—always believes the humans' side."

"What have you got against humans?" the Swan asked, staring at Willow like she had three heads.

"I have nothing against humans. I'm just pointing out that they are easily corrupted by magic and—gasp—not always right."

Snow White shook head. "Okay—you know—can we just get back to the present issue, please?"

Willow threw up a hand and started walking off to the side. "Apologies, please continue!" Although Hook was fairly certain she was subtly mocking him. She would do something like that, even though they were supposed to be pretending they didn't know one another.

"Right, so evil giants who made magic portal beans?" the Swan recapped swiftly. "Why doesn't anyone just go up and grow some more?"

And this was where the fun part came in. "Because one giant survived. The strongest and most terrible of them all. And we'll have to get past him to—"

"The magic compass," Mary Margaret finished with a tired sigh.

Hook nodded, pleased that she caught on quickly. "Indeed. The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass. Now it will guide us to your land. Cora has the means to open a portal with the wardrobe ashes, but she can't find your land without the compass. Once we get it, steal the ashes from her and we're on our way."

Mulan turned his way with a pointed look that frightened even him just slightly. "How do we know you're not just using us to get the compass for Cora?" Valid question, and not one that would be easy to answer truthfully.

 _Don't hesitate… don't hesitate._ "Because you four are safer company," rolled off his tongue. "All I need is a ride back. I'll swear allegiance to whomever gets me there first." Then again, perhaps tagging along with these four wasn't such a bad idea after all. At least he didn't constantly have to worry about having his heart torn out if he stepped in the wrong direction.

"Then we'd better start climbing." The Swan started forward, as ready for action as any woman he'd ever seen, perhaps more. It impressed him so much that he almost let her walk right up to that beanstalk without telling her the most important part.

Hook came to his sense and then laughed. "Right, so… I failed to mention that the giant enchanted the beanstalk to repel intruders."

Swan obviously wasn't pleased by the setback and pressed her lips together as she stopped in her tracks. "All right, so how do we get up there?"

"I've got a counter spell from Cora." Then, turning toward the group and holding out his bound wrists, he murmured, "If you'd be so kind."

It was the lovely Snow White who approached him, daggers pointing straight at him through her eyes. Unlike her daughter who was a bit rough around the edges, however, Snow looked a bit like an angry kitten as she begrudgingly untied his hands. Seeing her displeasure gave him the urge to make her as uncomfortable as possible, so before moving on to his explanation, he leaned in a few inches and winked. "Thank you, milady."

Then, holding up his wrist, he pointed to the magic cuff he had wrapped around it. "I've got two more of these." Of course, it didn't occur to him until right after he said it that he probably should have avoided telling them that he had three cuffs. Perhaps if he played it off easily, they wouldn't notice. Assuming, that is, that they didn't catch on as a result of Willow's subsequent obvious death stare. "Cora was to accompany me," he continued, pretending not to pay attention. "So… Which two of you five lovelies shall take her place? Hm? Go on, fight it out. Don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it."

"Only two of us can go?" Snow White said, glancing back and forth between members of the group. "Well—then it should be me and Emma."

"Now, hang on," Swan interrupted. "I have a question, first." Then, turning to Hook, she asked, "Why would you and Cora need three cuffs if there are only two of you?"

Damn it, she was sharp. It was a mistake for him to tell them about the third cuff meant for Willow. That's what he got for letting words fly out of his mouth without thinking. "What can I say? Cora's a cautious woman." Then, in an intentional attempt to throw her off, he amended, "Actually, that's a lie. We had another companion we were carting along, but he couldn't follow directions so she killed him." He cleared his throat. "I imagine you can understand why I'm starting to favor the lot of you in comparison."

It wasn't as if his story wasn't plausible. Cora would thoughtlessly kill a comrade or worse, and they all knew it. He tried to sound as convincing as possible, but it was difficult to tell whether or not the Swan was buying it. But even if she didn't, she relented for now and turned back to the group. "Okay. Fine… so… Mary Margaret?"

"All due respect," Mulan cut in. "I think I'm best equipped to go. How many wars have you been through?"

"My share," Snow White said, sounding offended.

"Mulan and I have seen the most dangerous this land has to offer," Willow told them. "We work well together as a team. Together, we have the highest chance of success. Especially if that pirate does something stupid."

"I think it should be me," Aurora said.

Hook had to hold his breath to keep from laughing at Willow's squinted eyes and creased forehead. "That's a terrible idea."

"You haven't fought in battle," Mulan said.

Snow White turned to her. "This is about us getting back to our loved ones. Why would you—"

"Because I have no loved ones. If I fail, you can still go on."

"And yet, still a terrible idea," Willow said.

"One way or another, it's me," the Swan finally joined in. "I'm going, and I'm not going to fail."

"Okay, then I'll go with you," Snow White told her with a nod.

However, before the Swan had a chance to reply, Willow stepped in. "Actually—I think I should go with Emma."

* * *

Willow wasn't the type of woman to act on impulse. And of course, this wasn't one of those times. She knew the perilous territory she was getting herself into by asserting her opinion under these circumstances, especially knowing that Emma already had some suspicions about her. To top it off, she felt fairly certain that Killian hadn't helped their chances by running his mouth about the third cuff.

But then, it also granted her an opportunity she wasn't sure she would get. An opportunity to personally make sure they got their hands on the compass.

"I think I should go with Emma."

"Why?" Emma asked, staring at her pointedly.

"This isn't a debate," Snow White said, shaking her head. "I'm going with my daughter."

"Then you'll be subjecting yourself to unnecessary danger," Willow told her. "Emma wouldn't be my first choice to go either, but I can tell you won't be flinching any time soon." She glanced at Swan through narrow eyes and continued. "The more of us who go, the more dangerous this will be. That means you and the pirate need someone light on their feet if something goes wrong. And I'd wager I'm the fastest of the lot 'a you."

After she was finished, there was a short pause and then Emma said, "Can I talk to you for a minute—over here?" She stepped backwards and retreated a few yards from the group, prompting Willow to follow her.

"Emma?" Snow White asked, worry plain in her eyes.

"Just give us a sec," Emma responded, turning to Willow after she made her way over.

Willow then folded her arms and looked up so she could meet Emma's slightly higher gaze. She smiled a little, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Is there a problem?"

"I wanna know what game you're playing."

"Game?" Willow raised an eyebrow. Was it over? Was her plan up in flames?

"You're hiding something. I don't know if you're working for Cora or if you've got some other agenda, but I'm not buying this innocent face of yours. So I'll ask again—what game are you playing? Who are you, really?"

Such a flurry of emotions in those eyes. After nearly 200 years, Willow was no longer easily impressed. But Emma had a certain complexity that she couldn't help but admire. Brave and unwavering in the face of adversity—and yet, still vulnerable and struggling with her own self-doubts. And it was doubt that Willow could use to her advantage. Emma could see through lies? Well—then she'd simply have to tell only the truth.

"My given name is Willow, as I told you," she said, keeping her composure. "And I'm playing no games. All I want is to help find the compass."

"Why? Why would you care about helping us?"

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again for a few seconds to demonstrate some hesitance. "All right," she said, a little shyly. "You caught me. I was hoping you and your mother would take me back to Storybrooke with you."

Emma's expression didn't change, but Willow noticed the shift in tension. She had her where she wanted her—at least for the moment. "You want to go to Storybrooke, too?"

"I have people I care about who were taken by the curse," she replied. "I want to get back to them. And—if I have to climb a beanstalk and fool a giant to do that, so be it."

Emma's eyes flickered back and forth for a few seconds as she searched Willow for traces of dishonesty. But Willow kept eye-contact, unwilling to be outdone by the intuition of one woman. If she got her hands on this compass, she was a step closer to defeating Cora, and she wasn't about to let anything stand in her way. Leaning back a few inches and shoving her hands into her back pockets, Emma gave Willow one last glare. "All I can say is, you'd sure as hell better not make me regret this."

Willow smiled through closed lips and stepped past Emma back toward the group. "Don't worry, Emma. As long as we're up there, you'll be safe with me." _Trust me, you won't regret this nearly as much as you would being left alone all day with Killian._

"I'm taking Willow with me," Emma declared from behind Willow as she followed her, loud enough for the rest of the group to hear.

But as expected, Snow White wasn't a fan of this development. "Emma, no," she said, approaching her and catching her arms. "We do this together. I'm not letting you go without me."

"Yes, you are," Emma said. "Listen, this is about getting back to Henry. I don't care what I have to face. I don't trust Willow. And I definitely don't trust Hook. But they both—I think they're our best chance for success." Snow White let out a small sigh, still holding onto Emma, but she didn't say anything else. Willow almost felt sorry for her defeated expression. "What, you're not gonna argue with me?"

Snow White's voice was soft. "Would it do any good?"

"No," Emma replied simply. Then, pulling away from her mother and heading past her toward Mulan, she asked, "Anything in that bag that's going to help me with a giant?"

"A hook?" Mulan said, casting Killian a dark glare.

Willow, in turn, fought off a smile as he shouted back an offended, "Hey!" while throwing out his arms. As Emma and Mulan stepped off to the side to talk, Willow plopped herself down on the ground so she could finally pull off her wretched shoes and toss them to the side. The climb would be harsh, but she was used to climbing trees and her bare feet would be safer than clacking around with shoes in the giant's domain.

All the while, she could still hear the conversation between her cohorts. "Powder made from poppies," Mulan said, pulling out the poppy dust Willow helped her make a while back and handing it to Emma. "He has to inhale it."

Emma nodded. "And your sword. How strong is it?"

"The most powerful blade in all the realms."

"Is it strong enough to cut through that beanstalk?"

A short pause fell between them before Mulan answered. "Indeed."

Willow, knowing where this conversation was going, stood up and walked over to them, bare feet not giving away her presence to Emma, who had her back turned. "How much time do we have?" Willow asked, causing Emma to flinch and turn abruptly. Having had her fun at startling her, Willow moved up and halted at Emma's side. "Planned on destroying our only way back without telling me?" She smirked, and Emma leaned away, showing some discomfort.

"That's not—"

"Relax, I'm only joking," Willow said, glancing at Mulan. "So, by all means."

It took Emma a few seconds to recover, but then she nodded and said, "Ten hours. That should be enough. If we aren't back yet, cut down the beanstalk and keep going."

"Snow won't like that," Mulan said, shaking her head.

"That's why I'm asking you," Emma said, her voice not wavering an inch. "If I don't get back, you get her home."

Mulan's eyebrows creased slightly and then she turned her attention back to Willow, still seeming conflicted despite being the best of all of them at getting done what needed to be done. Willow felt her own mood soften a little when Mulan asked her, "Are you sure?"

But with a nod, Willow replied, "I'm positive. With Cora out there it's too dangerous for the three of you to stay in one place for long. If we don't return, someone will need to carry on. It's better this way." Then, reaching for the small bag at her hips, she pulled it free and fished through it, taking out a sealed flask filled with one of her healing remedies. After tucking it into one of her belt compartments, she held out the bag to Mulan. "The giant will be able to pick up the scent of most of my potions and salves. And I imagine my ogre whistle will be more helpful for you down here than it would be up there. So if you don't mind…"

Mulan didn't look pleased, but grabbed the strap of the bag anyway and then reached out with her other hand to grasp Willow's own. "Don't you be late. Got that?"

Willow smiled and squeezed her hand, shaking it firmly. "You know me. I'm never late."

And so, Emma said her goodbyes to her mother and Killian graced the two women with their magical cuffs so that they could prepare to make the treacherous climb into the unknown above them. Willow could tell from where she stood that it was about to be a long day. But truthfully, all she really wanted was to get it over with so that she didn't have to worry about Mulan cutting down the beanstalk. Despite her noble claims, she would have sooner left both Emma and Killian to the giant before getting stuck up there for the rest of her life. Then again, perhaps a giant would be easier to deal with than Cora.

In any case, Willow wasn't planning on returning without either of her companions. Letting Killian die would no doubt be a deadly mistake, and letting Emma die—well, she had a feeling that fate wasn't about to let that women go just yet. The Savior had barely begun to realize her full potential yet.

Some time later, Willow came to a painful awareness. Ultimately, the most frustrating part of the climb was not the climb itself. Rather, it was the fact that Willow was faster than both Killian and Emma put together and would have been twice as far along an hour in had it not been for the two of them slowing her down.

"At this rate, winter will be here before we reach the top," she hissed, latching onto a vine and hoisting herself up. Then, more sarcastically she added, "Oh, I actually forgot we don't have that long. By then our bones will be slowly turning to dust under the remnants of the fallen beanstalk."

"Well, then maybe you should go get the compass by yourself," Killian said in a nasty tone.

She let out a frustrated sigh. _I would… but then if either of you fell and died, it would be my fault._

Unfortunately, after that Killian didn't shut up. "Personally, I wouldn't mind it if you did. Then at least Miss Swan and I would get some time alone." He smiled flirtatiously at the woman below them who was currently ignoring him, and suddenly Willow had the urge to gag.

"First beanstalk?" he continued, apparently determined to get her talking. "Well, you never forget your first. You know, most men would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge."

"I'm concentrating," Emma said plainly.

"Yes, clearly," Willow said, glaring down at him. "So if you wanted to stop jabbering, that would be most appreciated."

Killian returned her glare with a tiny smirk of his own and then went on, "Actually, I think she's just afraid." Then, looking back to Emma, "Afraid to talk. To reveal yourself. Trust me—things will be a lot smoother if you do."

"You should be used to people not trusting you," Emma said breathlessly, pulling herself up.

"Ah, the pirate thing. Well, I don't need you to share. You're something of an open book."

 _Self-absorbed bastard…_

Emma didn't sound impressed. "Am I?"

"Quite," Killian said, sounding one hundred percent sure of his outstanding perceptive skills. "Let's see—you volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated. You need to get back to a child."

With a scoff, Emma replied, "That's not perception. That's eavesdropping."

"But you don't want to abandon him like you were abandoned," he said.

"Was I?"

"Like I said," he murmured. "An open book."

Willow let out another sigh and stopped when she looked down to see them idling on some vines, wasting their time away. "How would you know that?" Emma asked, now sounding curious for the first time during this entire escapade.

"I spent many years in Neverland, home of the lost boys," he told her. "They all share the same look in their eyes. The look you get when you've been left alone. In fact, Willow shares a similar look."

Gritting her teeth, Willow said, "Could you please leave me out of your pointless discussion?"

"Oh come on, don't be afraid of a little friendly bonding," he said.

"I would be happier if the two of you could move upward while enjoying your friendly bonding."

Killian laughed and glanced at Emma. "Ah, well, I do believe we've just been scolded."

Emma grunted and shifted her legs, trying to get the right footing. "Sorry, I was just a little winded. I'm good."

Finally, Willow started up again with the two of them behind her, going at a snail's pace but moving nonetheless. She was hoping Killian's half-witted monologue was over, but he still hadn't had enough, apparently. "Seems to me love has been all too rare in both your lives from what I can tell. Have you ever even been in love, Swan?"

There was a pause. But then, Emma said definitively, "No. I have never been in love."

At that point, Willow finally laughed. "Ha. I find that hard to believe."

"'Xcuse me?" asked, looking up through squinted eyes as Willow looked down at her.

Willow smiled, although she didn't feel particularly friendly at the moment. "Let's just say I have a sense about people. I don't blame you for denying it, though. Truth be told, you're probably better off without it."

"Speaking from experience, madam?" Killian asked, almost taunting her.

Willow chose not to answer that question and instead concluded with, "Love weakens us. And it's killed far more often than it's saved anyone."

"You sure have some grim perceptions," Emma commented.

With a bitter laugh, Willow replied, "Actually, I consider myself a realist."

* * *

 **And we have chapter 6. I called it "Realist" because I thought in a way this whole chapter really tied into her attitude, and I decided to name the chapter according to how she sees herself. Now, is she a realist? I don't know. That's something you'll have to decide on for yourself, I suppose. Emma called her perceptions "grim," but... depending on your own perceptions there could be some truth to them. :)**


	7. Romantic

**Hey, guys. Wow, this chapter was a monster. Sorry about the wait... I had a hard time with this one. This flashback chapter, "Romantic" handles some pretty major development in the relationship between Willow and Aiden over a relatively short period of time. So... I hope it doesn't seem too rushed. By this point, they've already been seeing one another for a while and so they are fairly close... but a few things are still holding them back. And you'll see what they are as the chapter develops.**

 **Anyway, thank you all for your reviews and favorites and follows! I greatly appreciate the support and love for this story that I've gotten so far.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time.**

Chapter 7: Romantic

He knew she was dangerous. He knew she could end his life in an instant if that suited her. But yet, he returned there to hear her heavenly voice. Perhaps she'd bewitched him and he was simply caught in an elaborate trap that he couldn't escape. It didn't matter, though. Aiden would rather have spent every day in the Willow Maid's spring grove than stay at home. At home, where he'd have to be reminded of his dead mother, and the father who didn't give a damn.

Aiden trotted into his village on his horse in the afternoon, nodding respectfully to his acquaintances as he passed. The village always felt smaller while he was riding, although as it stood, the village didn't extend more than a mile in either direction. It was surrounded by farmland on the south side and by woodlands on the others. Crops, however, were no longer as successful as they were years ago.

The house Aiden lived in had three rooms and only one fireplace that barely kept the structure warm during the winter. It wasn't much, but Aiden didn't mind. The only thing he minded was his father's attitude, and the choice he made to spend his money on alcohol when, between the two of them, they barely made enough to keep them and their horses clothed and fed.

When Aiden stepped inside the tiny house, he saw his father sitting on a chair by the fireplace, although there was no fire burning in it. He'd gotten used to his father staring at the empty fireplace over the years—some days for hours at a time. But he never asked him what he was thinking.

Slowly pulling off the thin gloves he'd used to protect his fingers from the crisp afternoon air, he murmured, "I was able to hunt down a stag in the forest. I'll skin him later, and we can store what we don't eat tonight."

The pause was so long that Aiden didn't think his father had any mind to answer him, so he walked past him toward the other room. But then the father spoke. "Only a stag? You've been off your game, haven't you, son?"

Aiden stopped in his tracks and shrugged. "Some days are better than others. I brought home a meal. Isn't that enough?"

His father looked up at him and cracked a wrinkled, barren smile and then laughed, as if there were some kind of hidden joke Aiden didn't catch. "My God, you take everything so seriously. Learn to relax, a little, kid."

Aiden laughed in return, but his attempt at a smile looked more like a grimace. "I turned 30 last week. I don't suppose that qualifies as 'kid' anymore."

"Oh, you're always a kid to your father," he replied, leaning back in his chair. Then, starting slightly, he looked back up at his son. "30? Last week?"

Aiden sighed. "Yes."

"What? You should have said something. I'd have scraped up a gift for you."

Predictably, Aiden felt guilty for thinking to himself that even if his father had remembered his Birthday, he wouldn't have bothered to do anything but sit in that chair or complain about his part-time employment. But Aiden spent little time thinking about trivial things like birthdays. There was a time when he beat himself up daily for not being able to just get married and leave this place. Now, he was mature enough to understand that he simply had nowhere to go.

And despite everything, he really did love his father.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "After I wash up a bit out back I'm going to Nathaniel's to help with the herding. But I will be back before sundown. You should do a bit of reading while I'm gone—it'll be good for you."

His father scoffed. "Reading. I still say you should try to sell them. Then again, those dusty old books probably wouldn't be worth very much."

"Knowledge is power, Dad. I'd think you should know that. You used—to read to me all the time."

"That was before we had nothing," the old man dismissed. "And knowledge doesn't do any good when you have nowhere to put it—nothing to do with it. If one of your books can tell me how to get rich, you let me know."

He said no more after that, and Aiden knew better than to test his father's patience. So he left him sitting alone in that chair, and started tearing up just a little as he headed out back to the water pump.

* * *

Aiden came back. And he came back again, and again, and again, several times a week over the course of two months. And each time, he brought a single yellow lily for the Willow Maid, which she planted underneath her tree. By now she had so many that she was beginning to run out of room, and so she continued to expand out into the grove, covering the ground with a new splash of color that reflected off the sun shining through the trees.

For once, the Willow Maid could say honestly that it was a welcome change in her frozen world.

"You know, I think your little animal friends are starting to like me," Aiden said as he sat in the grass, holding out his hand, palm upright in the face of a grey rabbit who crept toward him, nose twitching with curiosity. Meanwhile, he had a fawn circling him from behind, as a couple butterflies fluttered near his head.

The Willow Maid sat under the tree hugging her knees, Buzz resting his little feet on her shoulder. "Building trust with animals is always a long process. Especially so, I would imagine, with hunters."

"Hunters have had a poor reputation for centuries," Aiden murmured, smiling a little as the rabbit finally allowed him to scratch his ears. "But the majority of us have a high respect for nature. I think most animals have a sense for the good verses the wicked."

"Well, it does seem you're doing something right," the Willow Maid said.

He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye. "What is it? Jealous that I'm taking their attention?"

Her eyes widened. "Jealous? Ha. I have nothing to be jealous of. I know they all love me. Who else would feed them and grant them eternal life?"

This time he laughed, startling the rabbit and the fawn. The young deer, who was more skittish, ran back into the brush, but the rabbit quickly recovered and nestled down at his side. "So—I have a question about that, actually. If you wouldn't mind."

"What is it?"

"Well—you say you can grant these animals eternal life. How is that, exactly? Do they simply have to live out their days here, or do they have to drink the sap from the tree, or what?"

The Willow Maid sat up straighter, tensing slightly at the question. "Why would that be important to you?"

"No particular reason," he said quickly, seeming to sense her discomfort. "I was only curious. You see, magic is a rare thing to come by nowadays, so I can't say I know very much about it. And I just thought—living forever must be—nice."

She frowned. But after a few seconds, she relaxed and reached across her body to gently stroke Buzz's neck with her index finger. She supposed there wasn't much harm in telling him. Even if he had ill intentions, he would never succeed in fulfilling him. And by this point, she guessed, if he did have a plan to take her magic, he would have tried it long ago.

"But then," he continued softly, "I think it would also be a bit lonely."

"No living being is meant to live eternally," the Willow Maid told him. "It would upset the balance of things. One drink of my sap can't give you immortality. It can only make you immune to the elements temporarily. It would take a drop of it every day for it to prolong your life."

"And for you?" he asked.

"I will never age. I'm bound to the magic. That's the deal that comes with being a siren."

"So that's why you can't leave?"

With a dry smile, she said, "To put it most majestically, I am but a ray of light—a strain of song in this forest. A plucked flower will always wither and die."

Aiden's eyes darkened for the moment, almost as if he were saddened by her words. But then his lips turned up again. "Well, in that case it would be quite a shame to pluck a flower as beautiful as you."

Her eyes narrowed. Creative. She'd never heard that one before. But she still wasn't about to let herself be impressed. "Aren't you a charmer?"

"The women back home all tell me the same thing," he said.

"Can't imagine why."

He shrugged with mock bashfulness. "I get my talents from my father." After this, he fell silent. And the Willow Maid didn't have anything else interesting to say, so she stayed quiet as well. She didn't mind it, though. His company alone was more than enough. Silence never felt awkward when he was with her because the two of them were often content to simply sit and think, or listen to the birds.

But after a moment passed, he glanced at her, opening his lips slightly as if he wanted to ask something. She perked her head up. "What?"

"I was just wondering," he said, keeping his voice quiet. He always did, as if he were worried he might offend her. She supposed she didn't blame him. "You've been here—all alone—with just the animals, your entire life?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No, of course not. What, do you think I was born and grew up under this tree?"

He shrugged again, but his eyes were wide with curiosity. So she continued, trying to hold back her laughter despite being aware that he genuinely couldn't have known. "I was once a regular human being like you," she said. "I had a family—dreams. But I lost it all because I was too arrogant and naïve to understand the price of magic. And I wasn't the only one."

"That must have been—awful…" he murmured, looking down at his lap.

The Willow Maid stood up, placing her hand against the trunk of her tree, listening to it breathe under her touch. "At first it was, I suppose. But I learned to accept it. It's just the way things are."

"You seem like quite the realist," he said.

She smiled. "Actually, I still consider myself a bit of a romantic. I've always held onto the belief that everyone is born with the potential to find their happy ending. Even—even villains like me."

"That is a romantic notion," Aiden replied. "I'm sure you will find one—someday."

"What's it like?" she asked. "In the outside world? I have always wondered what's changed over the years."

Aiden scratched his chin and then shifted so he was lying on his side, holding his head up with his fist. "Well… For one thing, I can tell you that most of your dances are out of date." Then, more seriously he murmured, "Times have not been kind. I have done my fair share of traveling, and there are many beautiful places left in the world. But I wouldn't say George is the most generous of rulers. My village is poor and farming is unreliable. That's why I started hunting. So that I could help make sure we have enough food to live throughout the year." He paused. "Sorry, I suppose you didn't want to hear about my personal troubles!"

The Willow Maid shook her head. "Oh, no, it's all right. I—I wish it didn't have to be such a struggle." She didn't know what else to say. She'd never known a time when she had to worry about going hungry.

"Anyway," Aiden said, clearing his throat and startling the rabbit when he stood up. He approached her and they met half way, at about two arm lengths away from one another. "I should go," he told her, now seeming a little uneasy. "I didn't realize it was already getting so late." The Willow Maid glanced up and realized that shadow was beginning to fall upon the grove. She hated to see him go, but she knew it wouldn't be safe for him to travel home in the dark. "But I'll be back, of course. As always. You know how much I love to hear you sing. And I must admit it's good to have someone to talk to." He reached out and took her hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Such a gesture was something she had familiarity with, but never before without some sort of obligation.

"Goodbye, Aiden," she said softly, lifting her dress with one hand and curtseying gracefully. And he departed once again, leaving the Willow Maid with the strangest fluttering in her chest.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Aiden's father demanded the instant he walked in the door. He wasn't used to his father taking such active notice of him, so he found himself a little caught off-guard by the abrupt "greeting."

"I was out hunting," Aiden said casually. "And enjoying the sun. It was a beautiful day."

Taking a swig out of his liquor bottle and leaning against the fireplace, his father said, "You haven't been home a lot lately. Sometimes you stay out all night, now. I want to make sure everything's all right."

For a moment, Aiden thought about the Willow Maid's dark flowing hair and her enchanting voice. Just letting his mind wander to it threatened to lull him into a trance, and he had to fight to stay focused. "Um, no," he said quickly, pulling his quiver up on his back. "I mean, everything is fine." With a laugh, he added, "I've just needed a little time to myself, to collect my thoughts is all."

His father huffed. "What would a man need to do a thing like that for?"

"Don't you do the same thing every day sitting in that chair?"

The old man shrugged. "At least I can do it in the comfort of my own home. Anyway, I know what this is. You're sick of me. I get it. I either complain too much or drink too much—well, I'll try to do better, all right? Don't you worry. One day you and me will be out of this rut and doing real business out in this world. Just keep doing what you're doing and wait and see."

The problem was that his father had made a similar speech before. More than once, in fact. Perhaps it wasn't that his father didn't give a damn; it was simply that he didn't give _enough_ of a damn to change and fix this broken family. He talked about it—sometimes he even took initiative. But he always went back to his bottle. Back to skipping work and pretending to be sick. And as long as it continued, he knew they would never get out of this village.

At the end of the day, he headed down the road to Nathaniel's ranch as usual to help herd the cows and the sheep for extra silver. As it so happened, Nathaniel was his best friend—but he could also be a scheming, manipulative bastard when it suited him.

"Ah, Aiden, here at last," Nathaniel said, tightening the gate to his back field as Aiden rode up on his horse. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show up."

Aiden dismounted with a grunt and said, "Sorry. I got a bit distracted."

Nathaniel's eyes flickered in his direction and his lips turned up slightly. "Distracted, eh? Again? You know, the people in the village have been a bit worried about you. I especially, with you going off to visit that Willow Maid several days a week."

Aiden's heart skipped a beat and he felt a little sick to his stomach. "The—Willow Maid?"

"Well, you don't have to play dumb. I can tell when a man's been bewitched. I saw you—in the forest. You've been bringing her flowers."

"You didn't tell anyone!" Aiden snapped, stepping forward and placing his hand on the gate to stop Nathaniel.

With a raised eyebrow, the young bearded man replied, "No, not yet. But you should. In fact, what you should be doing is staying away from her. She kills people, Aiden. You're lucky you've survived as long as you have."

"She isn't as dangerous as she seems," Aiden protested. "Perhaps so many people wouldn't be dead if they hadn't tried to steal what belongs to her."

He laughed, clearly not convinced. "Well, she's got you wrapped around her lovely little finger, hasn't she? You enjoy her company so much? We have more important things to worry about, my friend. Like making a living."

"She's just an acquaintance, Nathaniel. A way to pass the time. And she would never harm me." Although, even Aiden himself wasn't one hundred percent sure of that. But now that Nathaniel knew where he was sneaking off to during the week, he was more fearful for the Willow Maid's safety than his own. Thankfully, Nathaniel assured him that no one else knew.

"How do you figure she'd treat you differently than any other man who walked into her territory?" Nathaniel asked. "Unless…" His eyes lit up slightly. "She's developed genuine feelings for you."

"I don't claim to know what her feelings are," Aiden told him firmly. "It's none of your concern, in any case. Leave it be."

"All right, all right," Nathaniel said between his teeth, letting out a defeated sigh. Finally, Aiden thought he may have convinced him to drop the subject, but all of the sudden a light seemed to go off in his friend's mind. "Wait, wait… this could be it, Aiden. This could be our big chance."

"What chance?" Aiden asked hesitantly.

"Our chance to save this village," Nathaniel murmured, lowering his voice and leaning closer to Aiden. "Listen… if the siren cares for you, it could work to our advantage. We could—well, we could become Kings, as we were always meant to be. In a manner of speaking."

"I don't follow."

"Then stop asking questions and listen up," Nathaniel hissed. "Aiden—you've managed to do something no other man in this kingdom has ever been able to do. Charmed a siren. That's no ordinary feat. She has magic, which is something no one here can get their hands on without a ship load of gold. Imagine—if we were able to get our hands on some of that magic, do you have any idea how much the king would pay for it?"

Aiden's greatest horrors had been realized in a single sentence, and he was shaking his head before Nathaniel was even finished. "Nathaniel, no," he said, unwavering in his resolve. "It's too dangerous. She trusts me—I can't betray that."

"Oh, but what's trust if you can't use it?" Nathaniel asked. "Aiden, open your eyes. We are a half step away from solving all our problems. If you could even convince her to give you a _sample_ —a _pinch_ —of magic, we would be able to get out of here. Think about it. What's more important to you? That siren, or your own family?"

"It isn't about order of importance," Aiden said. "If I asked her for magic, she would never give it. And going behind her back—it would be wrong, Nathaniel. It's as simple as that. I'm sorry."

Nathaniel scoffed and pushed his way through the gate and pulling himself up onto his horse. "What's wrong is letting our village rot. We're barely getting by as it is. How long before all the grass dies and the livestock starve? In a few years this land will be useless—and we'll be forced to migrate into the city where we'll beg for scraps like dogs until we can convinced the merchants and the millers to hire us for a third of what we're worth. But you keep on dreaming away in the forest with your hunting toys and your murderous weekend lover. I'm sure it will all work out somehow."

Despite saying it with a straight face and a cool tone, Aiden spent enough time with Nathaniel to know when he was using sarcasm. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he wondered if perhaps he was simply acting selfish, after all.

* * *

Aiden returned to the grove a few days later, after making sure that he wasn't followed. But near the entrance to the grove, she started when he thought he heard a few voices nearby. When he glanced around, he caught a sight of two unfamiliar young individuals running off, as if worried about being caught in the act.

Fear brushed him. What were teenagers doing in this part of the forest? From a village to the west, no doubt, but since stumbling upon this place he noticed that people rarely strayed off the path here.

He patted his horse and left her near the entrance, and then made his way through the trees, where the intoxicating smell of spring flowers hit him. But along the way, he heard the Willow Maid's voice—singing a tune he'd never heard before. It was soft and melodic as her voice floated on the notes like a leaf on the water. He started to feel drowsy as he moved closer to the sound of her voice, and he barely made it to the center without his knees buckling. Just before he brushed back the bushes and branches to reveal the place where her tree stood, the singing stopped.

He was nearly out of breath when he finally reached her. What he saw caught him unprepared.

"Aiden?" the Willow Maid asked, appearing surprised to see him. But he was too busy looking at the teenage boy collapsed on the ground, fully unconscious, while the Willow Maid knelt by him with her hand over his chest. "It looks like you may have come at a bad time," she said.

"What did you do?" he asked, feeling more like himself now as he approached and crouched by the boy. More like himself, except that he was suddenly horrifying by what he'd witnessed.

She shrugged. "He's asleep. The Song of Dreams is quite handy at times…"

He touched the boy's throat, grateful that he was still breathing normally, and then stood up, eyes wide on the Willow Maid. "Wait—you weren't going to—"

"Kill him?" she asked. "Well, as a matter of fact, I was. He mentioned something about—coming here to take some magic on a dare from his friends. Horrible decision, really."

"You can't kill him!"

She seemed startled by his reaction and stepped back a few inches. Her eyebrows creased slightly. "Aiden—listen—"

"Is this what you always do when I'm not here?" he demanded. "Do you have no sense of mercy for these people—for God's sake, an innocent teenager who didn't understand the consequences of his actions?"

"Consequences are consequences, no matter if you are a child or on your death bed of old age," she said, gesturing to the boy. "Yes, I kill them. I kill them all if they try to take what is mine, because I cannot afford to let a threat walk away. As long as they know I won't show mercy, they'll never touch me."

"You showed me mercy."

"You're different than them."

"Am I?" he asked, meeting her eyes as they widened in confusion. But he couldn't bear to hold her gaze and instead turned back to the boy. "What if I one day came here asking you for your magic? Are you saying you wouldn't do the same to me?" She didn't answer, so he simply ended off with, "No, I'm sorry… I can't stand by while you hurt innocent people."

"Then why do you keep coming here?" she shot back, her voice dripping frustration. "You've known what I am from the beginning. So why—"

"Because you're beautiful and fascinating and I knew there was good in you!" he snapped. Then, with a sigh, he said, "Please… you told me that you believed in the possibility of a happy ending for everyone. Don't rob this boy of his."

Something about what he said caught her off-guard and he saw an array of emotions swimming in her eyes. Anger, sadness, maybe guilt? He couldn't tell. But after a moment of what seemed to be extreme internal conflict based on the way she kept glancing at the boy, she eventually turned away. "All right. I won't." For the first few seconds, he found it difficult to believe that he managed to get through to her. The look on her face… it was one of defeat. Had he truly just successfully stopped the Willow Maid from claiming a victim?

Letting out another sigh, but this one of relief, Aiden smiled a little. "Thank you." Then he reached down, looping the unconscious boy's arm over his shoulders. And without another word exchanged between them, he left to go find the other two children and return their extremely fortunate friend.

* * *

The Willow Maid couldn't help but be embarrassed by her encounter with Aiden today. Not because he'd caught her about to rip the heart out of that boy, but because she hadn't expected him to react so strongly. And the truth was, she should have seen it coming from miles away. He was sweet and gentle and innocent, and she wasn't.

Perhaps the both of them had miscalculated.

She didn't expect him to come back, but about two hours later, he reappeared while she sat alone under her tree, feeling much like a sulking child.

"You know…" she murmured, not looking at him. "Long ago, a woman came here looking for my magic, and because I couldn't bring myself to kill her, she returned days later with a troop of cohorts to take what they wanted by force. It was that day that I realized I couldn't allow anyone to walk away. If I did, they'd try to find my weaknesses and exploit them for their own benefit."

There was a pause. She didn't move, even as Aiden approached and sat down next to her. "It was a _good_ thing you did. Letting him go. He was only a child."

"We are all _only_ children at one point or another," she said. "Aiden, looking to magic to solve all your problems can never make you happy. It may seem that way at first, but magic always has a price. Whatever you gain through magic will be lost in the form of something else." She leaned back against the trunk of the willow. "The only one I could trust with power like this is the one who could pass my test. And there's never been a person capable of that." No one had ever been able to face their own desires and resist under her spell. They paid for that with their lives.

Aiden shook his head slowly. "I just can't watch people get hurt. And I won't apologize for it."

"I don't expect you to," the Willow Maid said. "I won't be heartbroken if you don't come back."

"Why did you stop?" he asked, causing her to glance at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Why didn't you kill that boy? You could have—I wouldn't have been able to stop you. So why didn't you do it?"

She ran her fingers through the grass underneath her in an attempt not to concentrate too hard on their conversation. "I suppose—because I realized I didn't want you to see me that way. And that you were right. I'm a hypocrite for seeking a happy ending when I rob other people of theirs."

A long silence fell between them. After a time, the Willow Maid started to think perhaps she made a mistake and that she simply shouldn't have said anything. But finally, as if having come to his own internal conclusion, "I will come back," Aiden said, causing her to turn her head in mild surprise. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" She already had a good idea.

"Please stop hurting people," he said, confirming her guess. "I do truly—want to be here with you. There's something about you—I don't know. But I want to be a part of this. I want to talk to you and hear you sing and watch you dance. I just—I can't anymore—not if people are still being killed."

She held her mouth shut for several seconds as she contemplated her most pressing question. Was Aiden's visitation important enough for her to risk it all, just so she could be with him? It seemed like a ridiculous notion, cutting out a part of her own life so he could fit into it. But the truth was that his visits had become as natural as breathing to her over the last couple months. And suddenly, she couldn't imagine the thought of getting up in the morning and never seeing his face again.

So she said the only thing she could say: "All right. I promise."

Aiden smiled. "You are kind. I always knew it. It's hard to be alone—I'm sure you understand that better than most."

She returned his smile a little and turned her face away again. "I'm not kind. Not truly. If it weren't you asking, I wouldn't do this. But it seems like there's something about you, as well, Aiden. You—you asked me if I would kill you earlier today. If you came looking for magic. And the answer to that is—no, I do not think I could if I wanted to." She shook her head, irritated. "Ugh, that sounds so ridiculous. I would never try to hurt you. I hope you can believe that. But rest assured that no one will ever have this willow's sap. Not even you."

He had no verbal answer, instead nodded after another thirty second long pause. And then again he shifted the topic. "Look… instead of a flower, I brought you something different today." She watched curiously as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a hard-cover book. "This is a copy of _The Faerie Queene_ … I've had it since I was a boy."

With a grin as she nearly forgot all her troubles, she reached out to touch the cover. "I used to read this all the time when I was younger. I had a copy of my own—my sisters always used to hide it to frustrate me…"

"Well, here," he said, pushing it toward her. "I had a feeling it was the kind of story a 'romantic' like you would enjoy."

"You're letting me borrow it?" she asked, taking it in her hands.

"I'm letting you keep it," she told her, causing her to pull the book to her chest in surprise. "My father is always harassing me to rid myself of some of my books so… it's no problem."

She could hardly believe it. No one had given her a gift in nearly two centuries. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," he said. "I have read it plenty of times."

She flipped through the pages with excitement, also realizing at that moment just how long it had been since she last set eyes on words on a page. And the scent of the paper made her sigh. "Thank you. Ha! This is fantastic."

"It's my pleasure," he said, placing a hand on her arm, causing her to feel tingles. It wasn't quite like anything else she'd experienced, and it startled her. "It's already late. I should go."

But before he moved to get up, the Willow Maid pulled a daring move and leaned in to kiss his cheek as an extra thank you. "You are wonderful."

He smiled, and then laughed a little awkwardly. "Well… I just thought you could use a smile, is all. I'm glad it made you happy." Then, standing up, he said, "Do try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone. I'll see you soon."

And so, long after he left, the Willow Maid was still sitting beneath the tree reading her new book. It had long since grown dark, but the fireflies offered enough light for her to see the page. Every once in a while she grew distracted, however, thinking about Aiden and the events of that day. As she went back and forth between fantasy and self-loathing, wondering if she could ever be good enough for someone like him.

And it was thoughts of those nature that led her to the inescapable truth—the truth that would forever haunt her—The Willow Maid was falling in love with the forest hunter.

* * *

Some time later, Aiden trotted through the forest in the dark, keeping his lantern lit and listening for the sounds of any dangerous creatures lurking in the shadows. He didn't fear the dark—but he knew better than to be careless beneath it.

And yet his mind wandered to the Willow Maid, the woman he was finding himself oddly attached to in spite of knowing what she was capable of. Even more now, having nearly witnessed it first-hand. He wanted to say he was afraid of her, but he really wasn't. He was convinced now that she genuinely cared for him and wanted to please him. And yet, a part of him was disappointed to hear that her magic was still off-limits, even to him. He wished he could feel comfortable simply asking her to help him and his family and friends, but he feared that he might seem like the bad guy if he did that. Still, he did convince her to renounce murder as a way of handling intruders. Perhaps people were capable of change after all.

"Lovely night for a stroll, isn't it?"

Aiden's horse startled and he nearly dropped his lantern when he heard an unfamiliar voice address him in the dark. Steadying his horse and reaching for the bow at his back, he glanced around, searching for movement. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Show yourself."

Into the light of his lantern appeared a man—no—he walked like a man, but he looked more like some sort of demon with stringy black hair and skin that glittered almost green under the dim glow. He had a wide, focused gaze and a devilish smile that continued to put Aiden and his horse on edge. "Who are you?" he asked the creature, his voice trembling slightly. He couldn't remember the last time he genuinely felt afraid, but there was something about his other-worldly appearance that put him on edge.

The creature in response let out a high-pitched laugh and pointed at him. "Who I am matters not. This is about what you want. And I—" He placed his palm over his chest almost dramatically. "Am here to help you get it."

Aiden hopped down off his horse and faced the demon. His dark eyes flickered with the reflection of his light, and the creature was several inches shorter than him, with a slender build. But the unease still didn't go away. "What do you know about what I want?" Aiden asked curiously.

"Well, I know most things," the creature said in a nasally yet casual voice. "I know what you want—and the beauty of it is—there also happens to something _I_ want. Fate is a curious thing, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course it is," Aiden said. "But I still don't follow your point."

"That's because I haven't gotten to it, yet!" the creature snapped, causing Aiden to flinch back. Then, more calmly, he showed his teeth and said, "Have some patience, Dearie. All in due time." Aiden didn't move, but kept his guard up at the creature circled him slowly, like a shark preparing to devour its prey. "I have a feeling this is a deal you'll want to make."

"And why is that?" Aiden asked.

" _Ray of light in the Willow tree, all your daydreams she can see. Life springs up beneath her toes, yet life she takes from all of those who seek to harvest her sacred power, bound to eternity's final hour_." He sang the lyrics to the old children's tune in a soft tone, sending shivers down Aiden's spine. He thought about the siren in her grove just a few miles away from where he stood. What could this demon want with the Willow Maid?

But the demon needed no more explanation than that to get his undivided attention. And Aiden turned his eyes in the direction of that beast's overly alert and all-too-intense gaze, curious enough that it was too late to turn back. "I'm listening."

* * *

 **Yeah, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that I don't have to explain who showed up at the end, lol. Yikes. This isn't looking good. In any case, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As you can see, Willow is quickly falling for Aiden, but Aiden isn't really sure how he feels. He's drawn to her and likes her company, but not only is she a cold-blooded killer every other day of the week, he also has people constantly whispering in his ear that he needs to do what's best for the people at home. So... there's a bit of conflict there. Next chapter we'll be getting back to present day Willow along with Killian and Emma as they climb up the beanstalk, so stay tuned! Oh and also, please let me know what you think of the chapter. I had a hard time writing it and I didn't want to agonize over it anymore, but I'm worried it may not be my best work :/ So feel free to leave your thoughts!**


	8. Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum

**Hello, friends! Back again with another chapter! Guess it's been less than a week this time! This chapter wasn't nearly as hard to write as the last one, even though it's still a bit long. I had fun with it. There's no Storybrooke in this chapter - just Willow, Emma, Killian, and the giant of course. And in some ways it turns out the way it did in show... in some ways not quite as much. But I hope you enjoy it. I tried to spend a little time on the development of the relationships between all of them, and to me that's always the most exciting part of writing any chapter.**

 **Also, thanks as usual for all your support and for your reviews! They make me enjoy this journey so much more :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, or the Willow Maid's concept.**

Chapter 8: Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum

Night had fallen by the time Willow and her cohorts reached the top of the beanstalk. Her arms and legs burned from the long climb, and she let out a sigh of relief when she was finally able to set her feet on something solid.

She noticed almost immediately that the castle before her was large enough to fill a version of her that was thirty times her size, but it was also in ruin, as if a great calamity had befallen it and no one had touched it since. But she knew better than to believe they were alone.

"All right," she murmured as she pulled her leg back to take a look at her foot, which was covered with cuts. Frowning in dissatisfaction, she took the lone tiny salve she'd kept with her out of her jacket and rubbed some on the cuts. They began healing immediately—or at least, the blood began to recede. "I think we can all agree that the sooner we get in and out of this place, the better."

"What happened here?" Emma asked, marveling at the majesty ahead.

"It's where the final battle was," Killian said. Then, as she began walking, he added, "Give me your hand."

"What?"

"Your hand," he said more insistently. "It's cut."

"I'll take care of it," Willow grumbled, slightly irritated at the idea of having to waste more of her salve. She'd brought it specifically for the purpose of treating her feet, which she suspected would take a beating on the way up the beanstalk.

"It's fine," Emma said, curling her hand into a fist and pulling away as Willow stepped forward with her salve.

But Killian caught her before she could get far. "No, it's not."

She glared at him. "Oh, so now you're going to be a gentleman."

"You'd both best lower your voices or this mission will be over before we've started," Willow said, grabbing Emma's arm out of Killian's grasp and rubbing some of the salve on the flesh wound. In response, the woman flinched and let out a sound of discomfort. "Sorry, it stings."

"Yeah, thanks for telling me," Emma said, not sounding particularly grateful at all despite her verbal thank you.

So Willow tossed in, "I don't suppose your world's recounting of this story ever mentioned that giants have keen noses and would pick up the scent of your blood within miles."

Emma averted her gaze. "Actually, that may have been in there somewhere…"

When Willow finished treating the wound, Killian used a rag to bind her hand so that she wouldn't cause it further damage while it healed. "So," he began. "Here's the plan. We wait for the giant to fall asleep. And when he does, we'll sneak past him into his cave. It's where the treasures are. Where the compass lies."

"And then?"

A smile tugged at his lips as if it were obvious. "We run like hell."

"There's no need to wait," Willow said. "You still have the powder from Mulan, don't you?"

"Well, that's quite a bit riskier," Killian said.

"Riskier than waiting for the giant to fall asleep when we need him to?" Emma challenged.

Killian glanced back and forth between the two women for a few seconds, and then smirked. "Point taken." Then, taking out the small bag of powder, he told Emma, "You're a tough lass. You'd make a hell of a pirate."

Willow resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _I'm already sick to my stomach from having to watch your pathetic attempts to flirt with her._

But Emma changed the subject, having become more intrigued by different matters. "Who's Milah on the tattoo?"

 _Oh, here we go._

As expected, Killian's face fell at the reminder of his former lover. The one who abandoned Rumple and their child to be with him. The one whose heart Rumple eventually crushed. It was a sad circumstance, but Willow wasn't exactly in the position to judge.

After a moment, Killian admitted, "Someone from long ago."

"Where is she?" Emma asked.

"She's gone." He started walking away, seeming eager to avoid the subject.

But Emma's guesses were on point. "Gold… Rumpelstiltskin. He took more than your hand from you, didn't he? That's why you wanna kill him."

Killian gave her a pointed look. "For someone who's never been in love, you're quite perceptive."

Much to Willow's surprise, Emma stole a glance at her before her reply. "Maybe—I was, once."

Willow loved in depth, existential conversations about love as much as the next person, but she wasn't really feeling it today. So she cleared her throat. "Yes—obviously none of us are strangers to the horrible things love does to you. But I think we have more pressing things to worry about. Such as getting that compass." She started walking ahead, gripping the handle of her sword at her belt to prepare mentally for what was to come.

"The poppy powder won't last for long," she explained, "So don't expect to have all day. Emma, Hook, you two should hide by the door and make a little bit of noise. When he comes out, I will distract him so you can get inside, and then I'll follow behind you after I knock him unconscious."

She expected some opposition to her plan from Emma's end, so she couldn't help but smile a little when Emma rushed to catch up with her. "Whoa, whoa," she said, stepping diagonally in front of Willow and hovering her arm near hers, though not directly blocking her path. "Who decided you were gonna distract the giant yourself?"

"I did," Willow replied.

"This is a team effort. You can't take on that thing yourself," Emma protested.

"I have to agree with Swan," Killian said. "It's too dangerous."

 _Oh, please, Killian…_

"Whatever happens, we need to succeed, and the only way to do that is by obtaining the compass," Willow countered calmly. "If we all reveal ourselves to the giant, we will _all_ be in greater danger."

Emma's eyebrows creased. "Maybe. But—"

"Do you still not trust me, Emma?" Willow asked, folding her arms across her chest, causing the other woman to fall silent. "If it makes you feel any better, this plan ensures I won't touch the compass first. You'll both be safely inside, while I finish putting the giant to sleep."

"How exactly do you plan to manage that?" Emma asked, sounding skeptical.

Willow smiled. "I already told you I'm the fastest. Giants don't exactly deal well with fast prey. All I have to do is make my way to higher ground and I'll be in the perfect position. Listen—if you're worried about me getting myself killed, I'm flattered. But it will be safer for all of us if I handle it alone."

She could tell Emma didn't want to go along with the plan. She wasn't sure if it was a lack of trust or simply her frustratingly noble attitude that didn't want anyone else taking on the brunt of any challenges. But as stubborn as Emma was, Willow was just as stubborn and she certainly had no intention of taking no for an answer. She couldn't risk either of these two losing their lives today. Not when so much was at stake.

Emma's gaze was intense as she met Willow's eyes fully. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Willow nodded. "I promised I'd get you through this safely and I will. I have as much desire to get that compass as you do. I won't fail. I know we don't know each other well just yet—but have a little faith. Just this once. I'll be right behind you both."

Willow waited a few seconds as Emma searched her expression, but it was short-lived. Finally, Emma dropped her arm and said, "All right, fine. But you'd better not screw up."

"I should say the same for the two of you," Willow replied as Emma walked past her. And when she was certain Emma couldn't see, she shot Killian a warning glance.

The three of them gathered near the front entrance to the castle, where Emma and Killian made their way over to the right of the door. In that position, they would be just out of sight when the giant came out. Willow would be distraction enough to allow him to slip past.

"Remember, Emma," Willow said as she positioned herself a few dozen feet from the door, "This is why you brought me with you." She grinned, although she received no such encouragement in return. "I need you both to promise that once you run through those doors, you won't turn back. No matter what you hear. Getting the compass is your first priority. Got it?"

"Understood," Killian said before Emma had a chance to speak. "Good luck, Willow," he added before gripping the bone he found lying on the ground, and hit it several times across a metal shield.

Willow's heart fluttered in her chest as she listened to the booming sounds of the giant's footsteps, heading for the door. She talked a big game for Emma's sake, but she'd never come face to face with a giant before and so she considered this encounter an experimental run at best. Now was the time to finally put her fighting lessons with Rumple to a real challenge. Everything he taught her with the sword, all those late nights she spent simply perfecting her footwork. And yet, despite all that she'd never beaten the Dark One in a duel once. With enough grace, however, it might just be enough to take the advantage on the giant.

The behemoth wore a beard and a sour expression on his face when he came through the door. He glanced around at his surroundings first, but then cast his eyes downward, directly at her.

Was it too late to go grab the compass herself and let Emma and Killian be the giant's dinner?

 _No! Bad Willow. Bad Willow. Get those thoughts out of your head._

The giant glowered at her as if she were the source of all the evil in the world. From what she'd heard about giants, in his mind she probably was.

"Hello!" she called, waving her head and slowly stepping backward as the giant simultaneously stepped forward. "I was just stopping by for a visit and uh—" She glanced to the right for a split second and watched Killian and Emma run inside. "And to…"

"If you came here, that only means you want something or that you have a death wish," the giant said through his teeth, reaching down toward her. But before he could wrap his gigantic fingers around her body, she ducked and somersaulted between his legs, swiping her sword against his calf. He let out a cry of pain that brought him down on one knee.

"All right, you caught me," Willow said, running around to his back and latching onto his robe before he stood up. It was hard to keep her grip as the loose fabric swung back and forth with the motion of his body, and as he patted himself down searching for her. "This is actually a burglary," she continued, narrowly dodging his hands. "And I completely understand your position in this… but unfortunately—we must all fend for ourselves here."

The giant growled in frustration and swatted the back of his shoulder, where she was climbing up, only for her to jump at the last second, latching onto the other side. Her hands and feet were still a bit sore from the climb up the beanstalk, but years of climbing trees had made her quite the expert. And finally she climbed her way up onto the giant's shoulder, where she quickly pulled out the sleeping powder. But the giant caught up to her, and she gasped when his fist abruptly snatched her up.

"Got'cha," he snapped, holding her with a triumphant yet loathsome expression on his face. She squirmed against him but couldn't break free of his iron grip, so instead she used her sword and sliced his finger from within, loosening his grip enough that she could free her arms and throw the sleeping powder at his eyes. He sniffled and coughed as the powder scattered across his face, but much to Willow's horror, he didn't let go. And when he stumbled and began to fall forward, all she could do was close her eyes and brace herself for the impact.

* * *

Emma was on edge as she headed into the giant's castle with Hook at her side, trying not to marvel too much at the sheer size of everything surrounding her. The plan was to get in and out as soon as possible, lest the giant realize they were here and come back to kill them both. At the moment, she wasn't pleased by how heavily she felt forced to count on Willow.

Hook, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his sweet old time, stopping to enjoy the view of the treasures lying along their path. What was that thing about pirates and being obsessed with treasure?

"Let's get to it," she said hastily. "The compass."

Hook turned and smiled at her with a gold coin in hand. "What's your rush?"

"Did Willow not _just_ tell us that that magic knockout powder doesn't last long?"

"Uh, she may have mentioned it."

"Well, that's my rush."

Hook paused for another agonizing second. "Too right, Lass. Come… everything we need is right in front of us."

He led her into an enormous treasure room, where her spirits fell as her eyes scanned the mess of gold and shiny trinkets. "They kill all the giant housekeepers, too? How are we going to find the compass in this mess?"

"By looking," Hook said like your regular smart-ass, looking at everything like a three-year-old in a toy shop. "Start searching. I wonder how much treasure we could carry down the beanstalk." She shot him a glare. "In addition to the compass, of course."

It was quiet outside now, and even as Emma began her search, she thought about Willow, who still hadn't managed to catch up with them as she promised. But instead of saying anything just yet, she was trying to have a little bit of patience.

While her mind was hereby occupied, she noticed a dried up skeleton in the middle of the floor, sword still in hand. "What the hell?" she murmured, approaching slowly and reading the word, "Jack," etched into the sword.

"That would be Jack," Hook said.

"As in, Jack—"

"The giant killer."

"With that toothpick?" Emma had a hard time believing a little sword like that could actually kill a giant.

"Well, it packs quite a wallop," Hook said. "You'd be surprised." He started to move on, but didn't notice the thing at his feet that would doom them both. Out of an impulse to protect him from stepping through the taut string below him, she sprang forward and grabbed his arms, pulling him away.

"Well, it's about bloody time," he said to her distaste, wrapping his arms around her in return.

Despite their closeness, she kept her cool. "Trip wire. Quite the security system." She glanced up and noted the cage waiting on the ceiling for its next unsuspecting victim. Then, she attempted to pull away with the danger having passed, but Hook held on for a few extra seconds, much to her irritation.

But she broke free of his grip nonetheless, and he smirked at her. "Well… that's a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don't stand on ceremony." She raised her eyebrows when he twirled a piece of her hair in his fingers. Yes, he was hot. Did she care? Not even a little.

"Let's just find that compass and get home," she said, gesturing for Hook to go first.

But as they continued searching over the next few minutes, Emma grew restless. "Where the hell is Willow?"

While looking through a pile of treasure, Hook said, "She's probably fine, love."

"If she's fine, then why isn't she here?"

"I'm sure the little fairy princess is right behind us," he said, almost dismissively.

"Fairy princess?" She glared at him. "Really?"

"Well, she does have that glow about her, doesn't she?"

With a sigh, Emma turned toward the door. "Maybe one of us should go back and look for her."

"And if you remember, she told us specifically to focus on getting the compass," Hook said.

"But what if something happened to her?" Emma protested, folding her arms across her chest in discomfort. _Or worse… she found the compass somehow and ran with it._

Hook sighed and then stood up straight, turning toward her, "Well, if you're really that worried about her, I will go and look if you wish."

Emma stepped in front of him. "No, we'll both go. I'm not gonna have you disappearing on me, too."

With a hint of a smile, Hook replied, "I had no idea you cared so much, Swan."

She was getting tired of his witty comments and was about to whip his ass with a sarcastic remark, when all of the sudden, giant footsteps in the distance silenced her. She cursed under her breath. _Really? Already? Where in the hell is Willow?_

"Someone's up," Hook murmured. "Quickly. Get under something." The floor shook as the two companions scurried around looking for a hiding place, but it was too late. Emma's heart pounded when the giant came rushing into the treasure room, his face distorted with anger. Debris fell from the ceiling due to the giant's powerful footsteps, and Emma stepped back to get out of the way. But before she had a chance to help him, he was buried in the falling debris.

"Hook!" she cried out with horror, desperate for an answer even though she knew she would receive none. The panic set in as she turned back around, unable to do anything but stand paralyzed as the giant charged toward her, knocking pieces of gold about the room. She had nowhere to run when he reached down and snatched her off the floor. Finally, she was able to overcome the shock and she struggled against his powerful fist, as futile as it was.

But she had to think fast, or she'd be crushed to death. And it didn't seem to her like the best way to go. "I'm not what you think!" she shouted, hoping maybe she could reason with him somehow.

"You're a thief, and your little friend poisoned me," he said. "So yeah, I'm pretty sure you're exactly what I think."

"No!" Emma pleaded. "Look, you have a compass. I need it."

"I don't care what you need," the giant growled, tightening his grip under she could barely breathe.

"No, for my son!" she croaked. "To save my son! Don't you have a family?"

"No," the giant said, tightening his grip further. "Humans killed them all."

The lack of oxygen getting to Emma's brain was starting to make her dizzy, and it was at this point that she realized that she wouldn't get through to the giant this way. So instead, she opened her mouth and bit down as hard as she could on the giant's thumb. And with a cry of pain, the giant pulled his hand away and she fell off his lap and onto the floor. As he rushed toward her in a fiery rage, she sprinted back toward the trip wire, where she found the sword she'd seen earlier. She waited until the giant came around the bend, and when just the right moment arrived, she cut the trip wire and the cage went crashing down on top of the giant.

Once she was sure he was trapped and couldn't free himself, she ran up and held the sword toward him. "Nice security system. Efficient."

Then, as she pointed the sword at his face, the giant flinched back in fear and squeezed his eyes shut, shouting out protests. "I can tell by your face that you know what this is," she said, still out of breath. "Let me guess. It's dipped in some sort of poison. You have a compass. I need it."

"You're gonna kill me either way," he said, almost in a solemn voice. "So go ahead. Kill me."

"You don't know me," Emma said, completely aghast that he could just assume she would kill him in cold blood.

"I know your kind!" he argued. "They massacred us and destroyed our beans."

"I heard it the other way."

"That's 'cause the victors get to tell the story."

Growing irritated by the lengthy conversation, Emma stepped forward and pushed the sword closer. He flinched. "Okay, okay, stop! Here." And to her surprise, the giant pulled the compass she was looking for out of his pocket and pushed it toward her. And here, she and Hook had wasted all their time in the treasure room. After she picked the compass off the floor, the giant said, "See? I'm not the bad guy."

She raised the sword again. "If you're not the bad guy, where's Willow? The other person who was with us. What'd you do to her?"

His face was stoic. "I sent her back to where she came from."

"What are you talking about?"

"I dropped her," he said. "She was unconscious. I doubt there's any way she could have survived."

Emma stared at him in horror. "You—you killed her?"

"Your kind don't belong here!" he retorted. "She poisoned me. It was what she deserved."

In her anger, Emma suddenly jabbed her sword into the cage and stopped just barely before piercing the giant's skin. "She didn't deserve that," Emma murmured, gripping the handle of the sword until her knuckles hurt. But then, realizing she couldn't waste time, she darkened her gaze and demanded, "Are there any more of you?"

"No," he said quietly. "I'm alone."

She looked away in response, but what she saw was something she didn't expect. It was a bean. A bean attached to the giant's necklace. A bean she knew could supposedly transport people between worlds. "What's this?" she asked. "It's this a bean? Can it make a portal?"

"Not anymore," he said. "It was destroyed like the rest of 'em. I wear it as a reminder. A reminder that you're all killers."

Frankly, knowing what he did to Willow, there was a little part of Emma that wanted to kill him. Wanted to make him pay for hurting her. They hadn't known each other long, but Willow put her life on the line for Emma and Hook. She shouldn't have had to sacrifice it.

But now she felt the need to prove the giant wrong. And that's exactly what she planned to do. She walked away. And it was only for a brief moment that she thought she might regret it, when the giant abruptly broke free of his cage and she was forced to duck to avoid the falling pieces. She turned around, pointing the sword toward him and ready for a fight. But instead of engaging her, he gripped a human-sized boulder sitting on the side of the wall and threw it across the room, opening a dome-shaped hole in the wall.

"Go," he said, gesturing to the hole.

"Why?" she asked, confused by his sudden generosity.

"You could have killed me, and you didn't," he told her, his expression only slightly softer than before. "You get one favor. Now go before I change my mind."

With a nod, Emma turned and headed toward the hole. But then, remembering one small detail, she stopped. Hook was still buried under a pile of rocks. She couldn't just leave him there to die. After all, despite having worked for Cora he'd helped her get this far.

"Actually," she said, turning around. "I get two favors."

The giant looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"Well, after what you did to my friend, I think it's the least you can do."

His eyebrows creased. "What do you want?"

She knew what she had to do, and for some reason she wasn't feeling confident about it. As she pulled Hook out from under the fallen rocks and he told her how "bloody brilliant" she was couldn't help but feel guilty for what she was about to do next.

"May I see it?" he asked. "The compass?"

Hesitant, Emma pulled the compass out of her pocket and showed him, who stared at it like a long lost love. She was worried her nervousness would betray her, even though she tried to keep it tempered. When he reached out to touch the object she quickly put it away, not wanting him to have his hands on it.

He smiled at her anyway, however, and held out his hand to her. "Come. Let's go."

She wouldn't have admitted for even an instant that the look in his eyes made her weak, but it also reminded her that it was exactly why she had to do this. After a few seconds of swimming in her own conflicted thoughts, Emma took his hand. But instead of helping him up, she grabbed the shackle beside him and closed his wrist inside it.

Hook's smile fell. "What are you doing?"

Emma stepped away, out of his reach. "Hook… I—I can't…"

"Emma, look at me," he said, almost desperately. "Have I told you a lie? I risked my own safety to help you. The compass is in your hand. Why do this to me now?"

Even looking at him now, she could see the sincerity in his eyes. But the one thing she feared most of all was that that sincerity was only what she wanted to see. And she couldn't risk her own family for that. "I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you," she said. "I'm sorry."

He gritted his teeth and pulled against the chain. "You're sorry? You're sorry! I got you here. I got you the compass!"

" _I_ got the compass," Emma said, holding her ground. "And Willow got herself killed for it."

He paused for an instant, seeming temporarily stifled by the news, but then shot back, "So, you're just going leave me here to die, too? Have that beast eat me, to crush my bones?"

Emma clenched her jaw as she backed away. "He's not a beast. And you're not going to die. I just need a headstart. That's all." And as he called out her name repeatedly while she turned to run away, she fought herself not to feel guilty. But while she wasn't sure she could trust Hook, she didn't doubt the word of the giant who promised her he'd let the pirate go.

Even if he was responsible for Willow's death.

No. It wasn't even the giant's fault. It was Emma's. She never should have let Willow try to take care of him by herself. She should have trusted her instincts from the beginning, but she knew Willow wasn't going to back down and was so set on getting the compass that she ultimately put it before the protection of someone else's life. Then again, wasn't she now doing the same to Hook?

It haunted her as she made her way slowly but surely down the beanstalk, as she wondered if Willow fell somewhere near Mary Margaret and the others. If so, what in the world was she going to tell them?

By the time she was finally reaching the bottom of the beanstalk, she could already see Mary Margaret and Mulan fighting below. Ten hours. It had been exactly ten hours since she and the others left. Meaning Mulan was about to try to cut down the beanstalk.

"This was your daughter's wish!" Mulan hissed in the midst of their struggle.

"I don't care what you say," Mary Margaret snapped back. "You do _not_ put my daughter in danger!"

Emma let out a tired sigh, and once she was close enough, she let herself drop. "Stop!" she shouted, stumbling and falling on her back.

The fighting immediately stopped. "Emma!" Mary Margaret cried, rushing over to help her up. "Are you okay?"

"Two earthquakes and a jump from a beanstalk. I think my brain's still rattling around a little."

Mulan and Aurora approached as well, and the former said in a stoic voice, "I did what she ordered. Nothing more than that." Then, casting her attention toward Emma, she asked, "Did you get it?"

Breathing heavily, Emma pulled out the compass. "Yep." But meanwhile, her attention was on her surroundings, wondering if Willow had fallen nearby.

They all noticed her unease. "Where are Hook and Willow?" Aurora asked with wide eyes.

"Hook is detained," Emma said, getting the easy part over with first. "Start gathering your stuff. We have ten hours before he follows us."

"What about Willow?" Mulan asked pointedly.

Hesitantly, Emma murmured, "Well… the thing is—" Breaking this kind of news was never pleasant, and for some reason her own body shuddered at the idea of that woman's death. "She was able to knock out the giant for us… but she, uh… didn't make it."

"You mean she's dead?" Aurora asked, her expression horrified.

Emma nodded, casting her eyes to the ground. "He threw her from the beanstalk." Then looking around again, she added, "I thought she might have fallen near here…"

"We were here the whole time," Mulan told her, eyes unchanging despite the vibe Emma got that she and Willow seemed to have been friends. "No one came down in this area. Are you sure that's what happened?"

Faltering slightly, Emma said, "Well—I didn't see what happened. I only know what the giant told me."

"But she isn't here," Mulan said. "I've been keeping watch and there's been no sign of anyone."

Mary Margaret then turned her gaze toward Emma, eyes shining with unsaid doubts. "Then where is she?"

* * *

Hook stopped fighting after a while, realizing the effort was futile. Getting stuck up here in this godforsaken place and losing the compass were painful enough, but Swan's betrayal felt like a stab through the heart. He hadn't experienced anything quite so intense in many years. But now, whatever the cost, he would make sure she paid for humiliating him like this. He didn't know how just yet, but next time he'd be the one walking away laughing.

The giant wasn't far off. He kept close tabs on Hook, making sure he didn't try to escape. Somehow the Swan had charmed him into doing her a favor or two, which included keeping him a prisoner for ten hours. Damn her and all her pointless "savior" qualities.

While he took the time to languish in his own self-pity, he caught the sight of some kind of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned casually in the direction of the disturbance, not expecting anything special. But who should appear from behind a pile of treasure but Willow herself, light on her feet as always.

"Well, it's about damn time," Hook said as she approached him, keeping her head low to the ground in case the giant currently biding his time at the other end of the room happened to notice. "I thought you were dead."

"Keep your voice down," Willow hissed. "Do you want to get caught? You know, I could have left you behind."

"Eh, but not unless you wanted _her_ to skin you alive."

Willow shot him a death glare as she grabbed his hand. She was careful not to rattle the chain too much as she took a small needle and used it to unlock the shackle. She set it down gently, and he let out a sigh, rubbing his wrist tenderly. "Swan got away with the compass," Hook said quietly. "Where have you been this whole time?"

"Goliath over there almost killed me is what happened. I struck him with the poppy powder, but when he fell, I was in his fist—and I suppose my head must have hit the ground because I fell unconscious for a while. And when I woke, his hand was too heavy for me to lift it off myself. Then he woke not much later, and so I feigned unconsciousness in hopes he might refrain from crushing me to death. Instead, he brought me over to the beanstalk and dropped me. Luckily, I was able to grasp onto a vine and climb my way back to the top. By then, Emma was already asking her favor of the giant."

"So why remain in hiding?" Hook asked. "What was the point?"

She smiled and patted his shoulder affectionately, as if they were old mates, or something. It made him rather uncomfortable. "Because I have a plan. How about I explain when we make it out of here? My head aches and we shouldn't waste more time."

It was then that Hook heard the giant's monstrous footsteps, and knew they were about to be caught. The giant came closer at a slow pace, causing Hook to instinctively take a step back. His own heart pounded out of fear, but Willow merely released a huff of irritation and glared up at the giant.

"I thought a heard some racket over here," the giant said. "Trying to sneak away, are you?" Then, taking a closer look at Willow, his eyes widened in surprise. "You're alive."

"Indeed I am," Willow said. "Thank you for noticing."

The giant spread his feet apart and held his stance. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow the other human to leave just yet. I made a promise to Emma that I'd keep him here for ten hours."

Willow smiled with a false sweetness that made Hook shudder just a little. "Well, we're in a bit of a hurry, so perhaps you'll reconsider."

"Afraid I can't," the giant said simply.

With a short pause, Willow placed her hands on her hips. Hook could always tell when she was growing impatient. She generally put up an effort to be nice at first, but she could strike back with a vengeance, even with no magic on her side. Despite how often they bickered, there were times that she truly impressed him. "Do you really want to have another fight?"

"You have nothing to threaten me with," the giant said.

Willow cocked her head slightly. "Are you sure?" Then, with one swift motion she pulled a sword that was not her own off her belt. It was Jack's sword, the one Swan had used to threaten the giant earlier. She got her hands on it so easily?

Of course, the giant reacted how the both of them expected, by stepping back and holding up his hand in fright. "Now, wait—please—"

"Let us go peacefully and I won't have to use this," Willow said, stepping forward and holding the sword up to her foe without a hint of waver in her step or her voice. The giant said nothing, but simply trembled and cowered in the face of the poison sword, allowing Willow to use her free hand to motion Hook around her. He moved past the giant with a quickened step, eager to finally be rid of this wretched place. But then Willow's voice stopped him. "Wait," she said.

Hook turned his head. "What is it?" But she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she continued to step closer, until she was within the giant's arm's reach of her.

"What is that?" she asked. "Around your neck?"

The giant hesitated, fear still lacing his voice. "Uh—it's a dried up bean I wear. Useless to you, however."

It was then that Willow smiled, and Hook wondered what she could possibly be thinking. "All right, Killian," she said, more loudly to get his attention. "There's been a change of plans. Mr.—um, I don't think I caught your name?"

"Anton?" the giant said.

"Anton," Willow repeated. "Anton, Hook and I might be persuaded to stay here for the next ten hours. On one condition."

 _What? How hard did you hit your head?_

"And what _condition_ is that?" Anton asked sourly.

"I want that bean around your neck."

"What?" Anton gave her a confused look. "But—it has no value to you. It can't create a portal."

"Willow, what are you doing?" Hook demanded, stalking toward her. "We're wasting time."

But she ignored him. "It's the bean, or no deal."

Anton the giant looked as confuzzled as ever, but after a moment's reluctance, he untied the necklace from around his neck and lowered the bean to her, which she took graciously. "Thank you very much," she said in a soft sing-song voice. "Killian, I suggest you get comfortable. Perhaps get in a little nap. We're camping here for the next ten hours."

She turned to walk away, but in his anger, Hook grabbed her arm to stop her. "What's gotten into you? We're going to lose the compass if we stay here."

"We'll get it back," she hissed, her dark green eyes piercing his. "I know what I'm doing."

She shrugged him off casually, wandering away to inspect a pile of treasure like some sort of overseas tourist. She put away the poison sword, and Anton sat watching them both as if he still didn't believe they wouldn't try to run off. As he stared at Willow, the siren he didn't trust but couldn't seem to escape, he realized he had no idea what was going through that insane girl's head. His only hope was that, whatever it was, it didn't end up getting them killed.

* * *

 **Anywho, that happened. Let me know what you think if you have time! In the next chapter we're probably going to find out what happens in the past with Willow and Aiden, so stay tuned!**


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